Eye of the Storm
by HBomb24
Summary: Adopted Mulatto born Emma Maywood has strived to make a place for herself in society by working on the docks of the Boston harbor. Connor Kenway comes into her life and mistakens her identity, which sends the two of them on a journey that alters the course of the American Revolution and their lives. Rated T for language, violence, and suggestive humor
1. Chapter 3

_**The start of this story begins with chapter 3**. I had two previous chapters but I took them off due to how they revealed my character too much and didn't capture interest of most people. To my followers from the start: thank you so much for giving my story a chance and sticking with it through it all! I didn't alter any events, I just decided to disclose the history of my main character that was once exposed! You guys will know so much more about the character than newer readers will at the start. I'm going to have to restate and hint some things that you already know, but I promise to not make it redundant. I do not own any ubisoft characters/events/content/scenes. But I own the Maywoods and Julian!_

* * *

_New Beginnings_

_Dreams of Sam filled my mind every night._

_No matter how tightly I shut my eyes, I saw his smiling face. No matter how loud I talked, screamed, or cried, I heard his laugh. I could even hear the whistle of the arrow that took him from me. There he was, mere yards away from my grasp, awaiting fate at the natives' hands. I remember his anticipation. How he waited for the right time to strike and run. But he failed. His body fell lifeless before my eyes._

_Never before did a rage infiltrate my soul. Never before such agony and frustration pulsed in my blood. How I wanted to kill those men. I screamed at them, threatened them, and stood before them posing a threat. They only stared back solemnly, taking no threat towards the little girl with the raised fist._

_But that's also when he came into the picture. A native boy with warm eyes was able to control my angst for a few moments. He came and drug me away from my newfound enemies, with all my kicking and protest, and gave me a command in English._

_I did exactly what the native boy had told me to do. I ran, as fast as I could go, sprinting down the dark forest. I don't know why I listened. All I thought of were of Sam's last moments; how I could've saved him. I screamed all the way home, tears and breaths reaching beyond my control. Once I finally saw the forest clear into the familiar place of my backyard, I ran headlong still, anticipating my father's arms. The pain would not leave then though._

_That was the day I broke the family that took me in. When I came not even eight months before, they were in a delicate state of grief due to the loss of their mother and newborn child. This event I had witnessed shattered that state completely._

_My sister Madelyn had a greater cause to hate me. My brother Eli became a mute. Baby Grace didn't know anything better. But my father, he turned into a hound. He hunted ruthlessly across the foothills and forests for the men that claimed his oldest son. He gathered men from the settlement to help him and it was a ritual he practiced every afternoon. We all didn't sleep or eat or even talk. We withdrew into the corners of the house or yard and sat silently, wishing to go with Samuel._

_It been only a month later when my father decided to leave the sleepy mountain settlement of Leery Hollow. Father sold his livestock, packed the necessary things, and set a course for Boston. The image of our cabin growing smaller behind us will never me, nor any of my siblings I would think, but we all knew it was for the best. Leaving the past behind was the beginning of the road to peace, or was supposed to be anyway._

* * *

_Boston, Massachusetts: December 1773_

Sixteen year old Emma Maywood arose early from her slumber. The sun had not yet risen over the bustling harbor of Boston, casting an emerging blue hue to her room. The December air clung to the walls and nonetheless to her skin as she got up and walked over to the window. Pulling the shades across, she gazed out the icy frame. The city lay about a mile from her home, and the port at two, which gave her a good glimpse at the waking city. Men began to open their shops and stands in the streets as women fed the chimneys with smoke. Lanterns hovered over the work stations and some livestock walked aimlessly about. She glanced toward the harbor and smiled as she saw some sails being set loose in the wind. Another day of work awaited her.

She withdrew from the window and immediately began changing into her clothes. She put on a fit but comfortable cotton shirt draped over her torso and arms. Pants made of a rougher material barely fit her waist as they once belonged to her younger brother Eli, who was now taller than her. She then strapped on a pair of worn but faithful leather boots, followed by a leather shipmen overcoat. After that, she walked over the small mirror her father had given her many Christmases ago and tied her long dark hair in a neat bun. She covered it underneath a hat before letting out a deep sigh. She examined herself in the mirror and thought herself perfect for the role of the aspiring young merchant or midshipman. Her copper skin labeled her immediately as a Mulatto, which made sense of her occupation as it was common to find that scenario during these times. Her disguise as a boy was pretty convincing, considering her slender build. Her downfall was her pair of cold and ashen eyes, as she received more hostile responses than welcoming ones. They seemed to convince people that she was a wild "savage" under hire, and often robbed her of courtesy or opportunity. But, she had learned over the years to deal with people, and decided to use her defaulted cold stare as a defiance tactic. With that thought, she stride out of her room.

Her eighteen year old sister Madelyn was in the kitchen kneading dough. She had grown into a lovely woman, Emma observed. The Maywood sand colored hair and green eyes complimented her best upon her round face. Though not plump, she had developed healthy curves about her body. Many suitors had come over the years asking for her attention. Yet she stubbornly had eyes set on one man, and he had not come to her yet. Or at least, Emma didn't know for sure. Madelyn never dropped her hard stares or coy remarks with her that began in their childhood, so nothing was certain between the two.

Grace, another sister of hers, was eleven years old, happy under her blonde hair and green eyes. Emma thought it strange how much she looked like Madelyn when she was her age. But this child was eager, attentive to girlish games as supposed to Madelyn who grew up raising her siblings. On this morning, she was listening to Madelyn lecture her on kneading dough. Emma came into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Grace," Emma said warmly.

"Good morning!" she replied happily. "Say hi to Julian for me!"

"You know I will."

Then with a curt nod to Madelyn, Emma walked out the door.

Immediately long the brisk morning air made Emma's face tingle. She was glad no wind had come today, but dreaded the oncoming winter weather in the next few months. The sun was higher in the clear sky, casting a bright light over the nearly bustling city. The sounds of men bargaining, women laughing, and sea gulls crying filled her ears. Bodies flooded the scene before her, busy with their daily tasks. She mused at the sounds of the different accents, from rugged Bostonian to uppity Cockney. She wondered if she had developed an accent over the years.

Before long she came across a familiar face. A handsome one  
it was, light with light blue eyes and straight black hair. This man could charm any lady with his gleaming smile but the only problem was that he knew that fact, and knew it very well.

He was leaning against a stack of crates, garbed in clothes similar to Emma's outfit. Once he saw her he flashed that famous smile of his and got up to join her side. "Julian." she acknowledged.

"A beautiful morning this is," he responded while facing straight ahead. "But I gotta say that you're killing it for me."

Emma turned in confusion. "How so?"

"Has someone ever told you how scary you look when you walk down these streets? I mean, your expression is so hostile that it looks your hunting for something." he urged in good humor.

"Scary is the point, Julian." She said seriously. "And I am on the look out, thank you, as I'm trying to watch my back."

He scoffed loudly. "Watch for what? Thieves, harlots, or even-," he paused, "begging old men? Oh God forbid!"

Emma elbowed his ribcage. "That wasn't a funny situation."

"All he wanted was a bit of fun," he cooed. "You could've given him some form of courtesy. The man did throw money at you after all."

"The point is that he saw through my disguise," she said in a low whisper, "I can't be having that."

The two walked along the mass of bodies upon the streets. They were now nearly a mile away from the harbor.

"You know, I was thinking about our little schemes the other day," Julian started coolly.

"-I am not playing your wife again." Emma interrupted.

Julian laughed "Now as much as I would love to do that again," he said sarcastically before interrupting himself, "Do you know how boring you are? You were the dullest wife ever!"

Emma glanced at him in annoyance.

"Anyways, I think we have another chance to mess with the commissioners."

Emma looked on him with keen interest.

He smiled at her response. "There's talk of a gathering. A large one. At the harbor, in fact. Something to do with tea?"

"Hm." Emma responded. "A boycott or something?"

"It's coming up soon, whatever it is. We should listen for it."

They walked a few more paces before Emma caught something in the corner of her eye. She kept her face firm and eyes vigilant on her surroundings. "Jul, did you see that?"

Julian looked at her obliviously. "See what?"

"A flash of white," the sound of doubt heavy on her reply.

"Hmm..nope. Other than the thousands of seagulls above our heads.."

Emma looked past Julian, down into an alleyway. Right as they completely passed it, she saw it again.

"There it is!" she exclaimed.

Julian looked around clueless as she picked up the pace. "I think we're being followed."

"So what, we blend in the crowd? Julian asked.

"No, she said curtly, we backtrack and split. Backing to see if he is and then splitting for confusion."

"Okay," he gave a light laugh, "Lead the way."

Emma and Julian turned around subtly by going around a fish stand that stood in the middle of the road. They moved swiftly through the crowd but Emma kept an eye toward their pursuer. He started to go in their direction.

"Yep, he's following us." she confirmed. "Okay Jul, when you come up at this next alley on your left, turn into it. It should lead into one of the main streets and hide you well."

He nodded in understand. "You?"

"I'll turn into the alley on my right, circle back past this street and meet you on the next street over."

"Got it."

Emma released a nervous breath. "Okay ready? 3...2...1..Go!"

Immediately Julian and Emma split in opposite directions, bolting off according to their plan. Emma snaked her way across the crowd before running into the bare alley way. She glanced behind and saw a white hood pursuing her. Her nerves started to tingle within her. To her dismay, she found that the end of the alley way opened into a grassy field surrounded by multiple brick buildings; a great yard for the residences. She cursed under her breath before turning right into a dead end. She scrambled to get behind a fence that jutted out as a barrier for one of the building's yard limit and stood silent. Her heart pounded against her chest. She anticipated his sound of his feet approaching, but they never came. She stood puzzled and entertained the thought of peering behind the fence. After a few more long moments, she decided to. Her alert eyes scanned the scene before her. No one was there. She stepped out of hiding and inquired the circumstance verbally.

Then before she knew it, she heard a great mass pound onto the ground behind her and felt a tight grip on her arms as she was slammed into the brick wall. She became dazed for a moment before acknowledging the pain. She instinctly resisted her attacker by flailing her legs at him. Then the man's arm held her body up by pinning her neck and crushing her windpipe. She could barely breathe.

"Give me the note and I will spare you boy," demanded a voice from within the white hood.

Emma blinked, "Note? I don't have a no-"

He enforced more strength upon her neck. "This is no time for games." he said gruffly.

She stared coldly into his eyes. A light brown they were, deep with focus and narrow with contempt. Yet she managed to sense a warmth to them, as if a softer nature was held behind them. She blinked at the realization that they were strangely familiar.

He broke her trance by pointing a blade to her neck out of his sleeve. She eyed the blade as she felt the pressure to think fast.

"Alright," she admitted in a strained voice, "Let me reach it, it's in my back pocket."

Without another word he released his grip and let her fall to the ground. She fell clumsily and caressed her sore neck.

"Now!" he yelled down at her with the threat of the blade still extended out.

Emma quickly stood up and started to turn to collect the "note". She saw how he peered in closer to her as if to see the note leave her pocket. Then an idea popped into her head.

"_There are two ways to break any man's defense.."_ she remembered her father's words.

Without a moment's notice she grabbed the man by his collar, pulled him in, and pressed her lips against his. Taken aback by the notion, he lost his stance and shifted clumsily. She then released him and struck him with her next move by kicking him in between his legs. He cowered at the pain and groaned loudly at the sight of her running away. She bolted out back the alley way while holding tightly to her hat. Her gaze never looked back as she crossed over to the street to meet Julian and immediately found him. She grabbed his hand and led him towards the harbor.

"Where've you been?!" he cried out.

"No time now, questions later."

"How did you lose him?" he persisted.

"The Maywood method!"

"Oh," he paused before realizing. "Oooh."


	2. Chapter 4

_Here we go! Another chapter! This was a fun one for me to write! I hope you guys enjoy it too. I want to make a shout out to my first follower ACGamer and my first favorite (er) Superblade! Thank you guys so much for doing that, it means so much. I don't own anything of Ubisoft - characters/events/content_

* * *

_The Mouse and the Hawk_

_Southern Docks, Boston: December 1773_

Emma found her sanctuary aboard the Virginia Dare. She can remember the time she first lay eyes on it at five years old. Nothing as large or grand had encompassed her young mind before. She remembered seeing the sleek hull in navy blue, the masts tall and thick as trees, and an imposing woodwork design along its bow. The white sails shone bright in the sun and sighed smoothly into the wind. It became a second home to her over the years; a place she could cast off her worries.

She laughed to herself. This galley ship had seen rougher days, and rougher men. It was owned by Eliakim Swayde, Julian's father, who was a prosperous sugar merchant to the West Indies. Though wealth and education were behind his credentials, he was a tough man of the sea. Emma recalled the day she had met him a decade ago. He was a big man with a scowl imprinted on a wide and scruffy jaw. He bellowed mercilessly at his crew and likened to take nearly every matter into his own hands. On the night they met, he shook her small hand to the point of breaking it before reeling orders at her to work about the ship. He laughed aloud at her scrambling before turning to her father. "She works harder than any of my men ever could!"

From that moment she was hired. She was taught most of the workings of the ship, including manning the ropes, refilling the stock in crates, and setting the sails. Julian was almost always by her side, assisting her with the basics. She lingered at the thought. He was the only child in Boston that wasn't afraid of her and her deadly stare. Even as a boy he was charming, charismatic, and eager to trust; characteristics she wished she possessed. However, she remembered that things were always needed to be done on the ship, no matter what personality had tended to them. She was efficient in getting her job done and took joy in watching the crew work as one as the ship came alive at sea. She then smiled at the thought of the crew she had grown to know and work with. Despite the fact she wore boys clothes and worked just as hard, they acknowledged her gender. However, they never acted like so. The manly gestures of spitting, cursing, and neglecting personal hygiene was more than apparent in her presence. She minded at times, but was appreciative as she realized that they had seen her as one of the boys. Guess it pays off to know the Captain and his family.

Her skin was another story. Emma had the capability of pulling off the guise of a boy easily but her color got her in trouble more times than not. Men and women on the streets gave her cold stares, and it didn't help when her own disturbed most people. Men in the harbor reacted a little better, as they were used to seeing mulattos working alongside them. Every now and then, Emma received a shove in the shoulder or a spit induced curse from a new crewmen or stranger. She had a hard time controlling her urge to hurt her attackers, but her father reasoned that letting them slide was better than being taken away by His Majesty's soldiers at the end of the day.

Emma set down the final crate to unpack. By using a crowbar to open the wooden lid, she exposed the straw within. She brushed it aside and felt smooth glass. Deep copper bottles reflected the lantern light resting above. She picked one up and felt it was heavy with a dark liquid. "Tempting, isn't it?"

Emma jumped at the sound of her father.

"Yeah, " she breathed in relief, "This from the Indies?"

"Yes." Her father gazed at the bottle as he lowered down the stairs. "Rum. For the Dutch though, I'm afraid."

"The Dutch?" Emma inquired. "I thought we had the Spanish?"

"Change of plan, I guess. More Dutch are arriving in the colonies and want their liquor," he shrugged. "Better to sell to the nearest customer before the commissioner's take our stock and send it to England."

Emma nodded at him before returning her gaze to the bottle. She heard many stories of nearby merchants losing their ships, cargo, and potential profits as they were caught smuggling goods from beyond the colonies and selling them to non-British merchants. The Dutch had developed a greater participation in these smuggling schemes and became a loyal customer to colonial merchants. The market was high but she hoped that her crew would never get caught.

Emma and her father returned to the main deck and greeted the open air. Dusk came more quickly in the winter, Emma forgotten. Nonetheless, it was beautiful seeing the sun dip on the horizon, turning the sky orange.

"I'm gonna head home, Em." Her father said as he buttoned up his coat. "See you in a bit."

Emma gazed at the horizon as he left. Today had been a good day. She unpacked all the cargo, swept the deck, and even oiled the railing. Julian had left early with his father that day, as did most of the crew, since it was Sunday. She enjoyed the time alone. But as she was stepping down the ramp to leave, she remembered.

It had been a few days since her incident with the white hooded man. Every day since then she had walked home with a person, but now she was alone. Probably just how he wanted her. Fear encased her mind as she looked around for him. There weren't as many people walking along the harbor as there was throughout the day so it wouldn't be too hard for him to hide. As she walked she kept her eyes vigilant, making it seem like she was a thief hiding something. All was fine along the quiet harbor.

Until footsteps came. At the sound of their fast approach, she whipped her head around and saw that dreaded white hood heading straight for her. She held onto her hat and ran as fast as she could. Adrenaline rushed through her as she kept in a straight line, flying along the edge of the port. She sensed him gaining on her so she made a sharp right. She found herself in the market place, shoving people past and hopping over pigs and chickens. Losing him was hard, she realized, as he was skilled in running through obstacles. Her hands wrapped around wooden posts as she zigzagged through the place. People gasped in fear or offense as she managed to knock down baskets of fruit. "I'm sorry!"

She needed to find a way to lose him, but how? She left the marketplace and panicked for a solution. The two had come into an open space, out of the inner city and towards the settlements of homes. Emma felt the grass slip underneath her feet as she ran. Realizing her traction could be her downfall she looked around urgently for a solution. She looked to her left and found it.

A congregation of people were filing out of a little white church. She made a break for them, hoping they could help her. That's when she began to shout. "Hey! Somebody please help me! I'm being harassed by a man!"

Ladies in their dresses gasped at the sight of her. Men were alarmed but nonetheless listened to her. Emma ran up to one of the men and clung to his arm. "Please help me," she panted. "That man was chasing me." She pointed at her perpetrator, who had stopped a good distance away.

"You got a problem, pal?" her newfound guardian yelled.

The hooded man shook his head in frustration as he backed away. He soon took off and became out of sight. Emma smiled to herself. Safe again. To ensure that, she asked the man to escort him home. That's just what he did.

* * *

_ The Next Day_

Emma was never a moment alone the next day. She made sure she left with her father in the morning and stuck to Julian's side every minute. She couldn't make her fear more obvious as she was constantly looking around her. It didn't take too long for Julian to notice.

"Is something wrong?"

Emma didn't stop meddling her ropes into intricate knots. "No. Everything is fine."

"You've been acting like a squeamish mouse under a hawk's gaze," he noted.

"Something like that," she muttered under her breath.

"What?"

"Julian, I'm fine. Now please leave me alone and lets just work."

He eyed her quizzically before returning to his task of mopping. She wanted to tell him of what happened the night before but didn't want him to worry. If she was scared, he would be quick to protect her, but usually not caring if it made a scene. That was the last thing she needed.

It had been the longest day of her life, but Emma made it through without a glimpse of the hooded man. She stayed aboard the whole day and surely got a lot things done. For the last two hours of her work she had been below deck with her father, taking inventory. Her heart released a sigh of relief when she saw her father pack up crates.

"Ready to go?" her father asked.

"More than anything," she said sincerely.

After blowing out the lanterns and locking the deck door on the floor, the two stepped across the ship in darkness. The night air nipped at Emma's skin as she looked around. The moon had been shining full and bright, casting a white light over the city. If anything, she would have clear view of her surroundings on the way home.

As they began to step down the ship ramp towards the dock, the sound of running feet quickly approached. Emma looked to where the sound came from and placed her eyes on a man running towards them. Her heart skipped a beat. She put a hand out in front of her father before stopping herself. She looked closer and recognized it was Julian. She sighed with relief. "Emma," he panted, "You've got to come with me!"

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just thought you'd like to see this."

Emma looked at her father. He nodded with consent and then she took off after Julian. He was running really fast.

"What is going on, Julian?" she called out to him.

"'Member that tea plot I told you about?"

Emma looked quizzically. "Yeah?"

"Well I found it!"

Before long, they came across a hectic scene. A great ship docked at port was filled with men casting off chests of tea. Some were dressed like

natives and others in plain dress. In the moonlight, Emma could see some redcoats try to stop the mayhem but the protesters only resisted.

"Julian, what is this?" Emma asked as she watched.

"The Sons of Liberty are protesting the tea tax." he replied in an admiring voice. "Merchants, lawyers, and shopkeepers, the lot of them. I want to join them."

Emma looked at her friend. She had heard some things about this rebellious group of people, but didn't think much of them.

"So I thought this was the perfect opportunity." he continued. "I get to prove myself worthy."

Before Emma could reason with him, he darted towards the docks. The streets were bare and no flames were lighted on the porches. She followed Julian with uncertainty, as she didn't want to get caught up in any violence.

Soon enough she found herself and Julian aboard the busy ship. The sounds of swords clashing and men yelling rang in her ears. Several bodies ran past her, arms full of crates and expressions of urgency. Immediately, Julian found a stash of crates on the ship's side and cast it overboard. The other men didn't seem to mind. "Come on, Em!"

Startled, she looked around for more crates. She spotted some towards the back of the ship and ran to them. She lifted a small crate hesitantly before throwing it into the harbor. It felt good, strangely. The Crown's rules and regulations towards harbor life had been restricting and stressful on her father and their crew. Taxes were raised and selling products had become exclusive to English merchants. She recalled her father's frustration over the years towards the restricting lifestyle.

Julian continued to throw crates overboard merrily. Emma watched him between her throws and couldn't help but smile. This was fun, she admitted to herself. Why not bash the king with his precious cargo?

A good ten minutes past before Emma's heart stopped for a moment. She held a crate tight and gaped at the sight before her. Towards the front of the ship she saw him. The white hooded man. He was fighting off redcoats as they came aboard, slashing them with his tomahawk or stabbing them with the blades in his sleeves. He was very skillful, she observed, and was thankful that he didn't pull off any of his stunts successfully with her. Nonetheless, he was still a threat and she couldn't be seen by him.

For the next few minutes, she made sure she disappeared from his gaze. She turned around every time he glanced her way or would hide behind one of the masts of the ship. Doubtless he was occupied as it was to actually come after her, but she didn't want to take the chance. Besides, she didn't look any different than from when they encountered last.

Suddenly the air was filled with the sound of men cheering. Emma jumped and looked around as men shook their hands in the air with triumph. All the crates were gone and the authorities were either not in sight or dead on the floor of the wooden deck. She stared at their mangled and bloody bodies before looking to the hooded man who'd slain them. He was being handed a chest of tea, the final one, she presumed. The man took the chest in his hands and turned in the opposite direction. He stopped at the railing and held out his arms. He was facing a group of men that were dressed in expensive attire. They were looking back at him, frowning as he dropped the crate of tea smugly in front of them.

Emma scoffed at the gesture. "Imposing and cocky," she thought to herself.

Julian came up to her and followed her gaze. "Quite the guy, he is." he said.

"I'll say," Emma chimed, "Just another wannabe hero, I bet."

"But an actual one nonetheless," Julian returned. "The redcoats didn't touch us."

Emma exhaled slowly. What was the deal with this mystery man?

Julian and Emma began to turn to leave before a whistle came from behind them. Julian looked and caught a wave from a man in a red overcoat and brown ponytail. Julian smiled at Emma and ran over to him. Julian was greeted warmly by the man by a hand shake and a smile. Another man appeared beside them, an older gentlemen. Emma thought to approach gingerly, to stand closer to them but far away enough to give them privacy. She turned to her side and watched the floor below her as she listened into the conversation.

"I want to give you thanks, young man, as you helped us with our little protest." said the man in the red overcoat. "I don't believe we've met before."

"Julian Swayde. From the Southern docks."

"Sam Adams," replied the man, "Merchant, I presume?"

"Aspiring," Julian smiled. "My father works for the Isaacson Company."

"Excellent! I was wondering if you have ever heard of our brotherhood..."

Emma faded out from the conversation. She was glad that Julian had gotten the invitation he wanted but her eyes lingered on the dead men about the deck. How completely lifeless they were, motionless with eyes glazed. It reminded her..

"Who's the mutt?" Emma's ears perked up at the scraggly voice that said that. She froze in place and continued to stare at the ground. She'd heard that name before.

Julian chuckled nervously. "What poor manners I have! This is my good friend, Emmett." He rushed to her side and pulled her into the conversation. Along the way, she caught a glimpse of white, which had just joined the group. She gasped aloud and her heart raced. She swallowed and tried to keep her eyes to the floor. To her surprise, the hand of Sam Adams grabbed hers. "Sam Adams."

She looked up at him for a second to acknowledge his greeting. She released a quick and forced smile before gazing back to the floor. Sam Adams didn't wait too long for a longer reply from her before introducing the older man. "Forgive my colleague, he's letting his booze filter his mouth," Sam Adams gestured to the old man who mustered a gruff grunt. Emma managed to glare at him momentarily before Sam continued to talk. "And this is our newest friend and ally, Connor."

Emma knew he was talking about the white hooded man. She turned her head slowly to him and sent a quick glance to his eyes, which were locked dead on her. She quickly looked back down and blinked in nervousness. Surely he had to know.

"There's no need to be afraid, friend," Sam observed of her. "We all appreciate your service for this night."

Emma didn't respond. Julian caught on and spoke to Sam, "Please forgive him, he's had a long day and is merely tired from the day's work."

"We all understand," Sam assured, "Most days, my men and I don't feel..."

Emma tuned out the conversation around her. Fear enveloped inside hear at the thought of being in the capable grasp of her attacker. She could hear her heart pound against her chest and feel her blood pulse in her head. She slowly shifted her gaze back to Connor. His big arms folded across his broad chest. His brown eyes hid in the shadow of his hood, illuminated with focus and never lifted from her slightly bent stance. She never fully realized that he was of Native heritage, as his tan colored accented cheekbones and jaw protruded in the moonlight. She could feel the weight of his heated gaze burn into her. A mouse under a hawk indeed..

"Julian and I must leave." Emma said abruptly.

The conversation between the men halted. Sam Adams gave her a confused expression. "So soon? It would be unfortunate if-"

"We must leave now or we will lose our jobs." Emma interrupted. "Our captain will have our heads for being out so long." She shot a gaze at Julian, speaking the sense of urgency with her eyes. They looked at each other for a moment. If only he knew who Connor was. He sighed in defeat.

"I'm afraid it's true, gentlemen. Captain isn't soft toward unpunctuality." A slight tone of annoyance in his voice.

"Shame." replied Sam Adams, "Well it was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Swayde and Mr...?

"Just call me Emmett," Emma shot quicker than she anticipated. "Goodnight!"

She grabbed Julian by the arm as she spun around to leave the scene. They walked no more than a few steps before Sam called to them.

"Wait! Stop for a second!"

Emma halted and groaned in annoyance. She continued to face in the direction of home when Julian released her tight grip from his arm and faced Sam. "Yes?"

"Where can I access you? We should plan for another chat soon."

"Of course!" Julian nearly sang. "You can find Emmett and I at Pier #3 upon the Southern Docks. That's where we work, all day and every day."

Never before in her life had Emma wanted to elbow Julian in the ribs. The hooded man had chased her near her location, but never knew the exact place of her daily destination.

"In fact," continued Julian, "we're on the ship called the Virginia Dare."

Emma spun around and hissed his name through gritted teeth. He didn't seem to hear. Frustration and anxiety welled up in her core.

"Alright, well thank you gentlemen for your help tonight. I plan on making your acquaintance again later this week." Sam said.

"Excellent. Thank you for he hospitality," Julian returned. "Gentlemen." He nodded to the three men before brushing past Emma.

Sam and the older gentlemen turned and started to leave. Emma's eyes fell on Connor. He stood there, remained in his eased stance, looking back at her. Eyes hidden and arms folded, a smug smirk crept upon his face.


	3. Chapter 5

Hey people! Thank you so much for your follows, favorites, and reviews! I live for all of that haha :) Keep it up please! I don't own anything of Ubisoft characters/content/scenes/events

* * *

_ On the Run_

_Boston: December 1773_

_He knows._ Emma trembled at the thought. He knows her appearance, associates, and even what she's called by. He knows her daily whereabouts, occupation, and even the ship she dwells upon. She had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from those penetrating eyes. She was undividedly his prey alone and she knew he would not let her slip away. A mouse merely in the talons.

Emma sighed nervously into the wind. The morning sky above her was cloudy; the promise of more snow forebode in the air. A fierce breeze caressed her neck, chilling her to the bone. She was standing upon a platform that rested high up the main mast of the Virginia Dare. This would be her safest place, she thought, up from the ground and giving her a bird's eye view.

She clutched a brass spyglass against her chest. The metal was cold around her fingers but the tool became a great ally of hers that day. With it, she could detect any suspicious movement in the city. She could see over the rooftops, through some alley ways, and nearly the whole harbor itself. If he came, she would be sure to see him coming.

Or she most certainly hoped. The night before casted a blanket of fresh snow and ice upon the city. As ice floats lingered in the harbor, snow frosted the rooftops , settled on shop signs, and piled on the stone streets below. The color white would be more elusive on a man dwelling in a white painted landscape. Fate didn't seem to favor her these days.

She exhaled deeply before holding the spyglass to her right eye. She looked down at the busy port below her, searching carefully for the white hooded man. Or Connor. She didn't like giving him a name. He was a brute force that only showed hostility, a person not even in the slightest sense. He didn't deserve the privilege.

Emma remained on top of the world for a good hour before coming down. She was disappointed to not have spotted him at all, eager to find his hiding place. Yet she was also relieved. If he wasn't around, she'd be safe.

Her boots plopped onto the deck hard as she released her hands from the icy rope net. She brushed off her coat and looked around the ship. The crew carried on as usual, except more men made their way below deck. Winter's bite wasn't any harsher on deck, where the chilled sea sprayed in the wind. In fact, she thought it a good idea to join them.

Until she felt a hand on her. "AHH!"

Emma jumped in fear and spun around to face the strange hand. She met laughter instead.

"Julian!" She punched his shoulder. "Don't do that!"

"There was way too much girl in that scream." He observed jokingly. "Look, I'm sorry. It was a good opportunity!

"For what?" Emma said more serious than she intended.

"Getting you back for pulling me away from Sam Adams so quickly." His smile faded. "What came over you last night?"

Emma stared at him blankly. "I..didn't like the man that called me a mutt."

"The drunken toothless wonder? Really?" Julian doubted. "I know you get easily offended but..you really wanted out of there."

Emma sighed. "I'm sorry. I guess I just let him get to me." She looked into his eyes. "I won't let that happen again."

Julian's eyes went to the floor. He was silent for a few moments before slapping her shoulder. "Good! Now my father wants to see you, he's on the dock."

Emma leaped over the ship's side railing and landed onto the faded wooden dock. She immediately saw her captain and approached him.

"You called for me, sir?"

The big man turned towards the voice that spoke to him, his great jacket swinging around him. "Ah!" he cheered loudly. "There's our man!"

Emma smiled as he placed his hand on her forearm gruffly.

"I need you to run into town for me."

Emma stopped smiling. "into town? You mean, into the city?"

"The one and only." he beamed back at her. "I'm in need of some ammunition. My pistol's running low and these damned gulls keep flocking..."

Emma froze in her thoughts. He wanted her to go into the very trap of her predator. She was being practically sent into the clutches of a man who wanted to hurt her.

"Gulls, sir?" Emma tuned in again.

"Aye." he said while staring at his gun. "There's not enough in here to silence them all. Now go get two boxes," he said while handing her a pouch of coins. "There should be two dozen in each one."

Emma nodded at him before looking to the floor. "You don't want anyone else to go with me? Maybe Julian or-"

"I think you can handle this on your own." he assured her. "You're man enough."

She gave him a phony grin as he brushed past her. She stared down the dock and into the bustling city. This couldn't be good.

"Here we go," she muttered under her breath.

She took smaller strides in her step but was nevertheless quicker. Her eyes scanned the scene around her as she approached the end of the dock. Her eyes fell on stranger's faces, doorways, and upon the walls of the alleys, vigilant to detect a white hood. Her heart started to align with her growing nervousness and she didn't feel cold any more. Her feet stepped off the wavering dock and onto the solid stone. She looked down the port's edge to her left and to her right. No hooded man in sight. She breathed out a little relief. She decided to go through the port traffic and into an alley way that led straight into downtown. As she took a few steps in, something white caught her left eye.

She snapped her head at the object and saw what she had dreaded most the whole morning. A white hooded man, no, THE white hooded man, sitting upon a bench that rested against a shop wall. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees as his gloved hands locked together out in front of him. He was waiting for her.

A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. How did she miss him? She quickly turned to her right and started to walk down the port. Rushing into the crowd, she attempted to blend in. After a few moments she looked behind her. The hooded man slowly rose to his feet and started walking in her direction.

Her heart jolted at the sight. Panic welled up in her as she quickened her pace. She shoved past many people, not caring at all about her courtesy. People scoffed at her behavior and muttered curses. After more seconds past she looked behind her once more and saw the top of the white hood bobbing quickly. He had quickened his pace. She needed to find sanctuary somehow.

Close in the distance stood another open market. It was dense with people and carts. An idea popped into her head.

She decided to run toward the busy hub. Confidence replaced her panic as she reached out in front of her. She grabbed a basket full of potatoes and flung it onto the floor. As she kept running, she grabbed baskets left and right of produce and grains and cast them behind her. She even managed to fling a few full fish. A smile crept on her face as she realized that this would surely lose him.

But then she tripped. A frozen puddle caught her and sent her straight into the icy ground. The skin on her hands and arms stung by the imprints caused by loose pebbles. She looked behind her and saw running boots pursue her still in close proximity. She braced into the fetal position and anticipated his grasp.

The sound of the running boots grew louder as she held onto her hat. She closed her eyes as she waited for them to make a complete stop before her. But they didn't stop. She opened one eye and saw the running boots going away from her. She sat up in disbelief as she gazed after man's body. It was in fact a man running, clothed in a brown leather jacket and white bandana tied around his head. A common ship cook fit his description.

She rose to her feet and scoffed. "How?" she breathed aloud. "How did I mistaken-"

She silenced herself in horror as she realized the deed she had just done. She turned around slowly, staring at the mess before her. Great masses of food spread all over the ground with their tumbled and broken baskets. Wooden planks serving as barriers or shelves lay messily upon the stands. Juices of the squashed food stained snowy ground. She gasped aloud as she faced the people. Rage framed their faces as they stood over their hard tilled or traded products that were no longer of value. Her breath shook out of her. She continued to look beyond the crowd of people and towards the side of a nearby brick building. There, leaning against the wall, stood Connor. With his foot propped up along the wall and his arms folded across his chest, he sent her a sidelong grin.

* * *

_ Maywood Residence, Boston: Later That Night_

"Unbelievable." Her father scorned. "Intolerable. Incorrigible. Most wholly unacceptable!"

Emma winced at the thrown hat before her. She looked down in shame as her father ranted.

"What the hell were you thinking? People go hungry in the winter, Emma!" He slammed his hand on the table and bore his green eyes into her.

"All of those coins spent, backs broken, hours spent on such precious cargo," he waved his hands as he spoke. "Lost! Lost in a single day to what? Some rebellious streak?"

Emma peered up at him. "No, sir, it was-"

Mr. Maywood turned and scoffed aloud. "It doesn't matter. Money and apologies and services are owed to those people, Emma. You, owe all of those people everything!"

Protest rose within Emma. "Father, I was trying to-"

"I don't want excuses!" he father roared back. "There is not one thing that could justify all of those people's fruitless labors. Not one thing!"

Emma exhaled in frustration and crossed her arms as she sent her glance aside. Very few times had she seen her father this angry and dared not to fight back. But this time it took all of her might to resist it.

Her father sat in a chair and placed his elbows on the table. He rubbed his face and then his grey hair in frustration. He sighed a long sigh before speaking again. "You're lucky that Swayde decided to cover you. As you know he's willing to pay every lost penny to those poor people for the mistake you made." his voice was calmer. "I however, will not let you slide as easily."

Emma faced her father again.

"You are not to work on the Virginia for a month. You will spend your days aiding the people of Boston by doing whatever it is they ask you to do."

Emma's jaw dropped. Be without the Virginia? Without her work, pay, and friends? For an entire month? She struggled to form her words. "Do what? Civil projects for the people?"

"Yes. Help sell groceries, sweep up shops, run errands for the elderly," Her father affirmed. "And it is completely volunteer; you will accept no pay."

Emma gritted her teeth. "Father this isn't fair! I did what I did because I thought a man was following me!"

"Then why didn't you come home?" Her father shot back. "Or go back to the Virginia at least? You were less than a half mile away!"

Emma stared at him.

"Call on the guards, for all I care. Run into a store. Tell people and they will help you! You don't need to waste any resources for petty suspicions."

She stared at him silently for a few moments. Anger welled in her throat and she could feel blood rush to her head. She no longer felt the need to fight, just dwell in her rage. "Fine. I'll do as you say."

* * *

The next few weeks were one of the hardest weeks of Emma's life. It tormented her enough to be away from the world she knew best, to be away from her tasks, the crew and their amusing rants, and Julian, who she had not seen since her punishment day. It was hard for her to find a job because many believed she was "savage." No rightful citizen could bare the thought of having the tan skinned, piercing ashen- eyed native "boy" to go about their shops. Emma grew impatient with their prejudices. It didn't help with the fact that many people recognized her from her now infamous incident and shunned any help from her. She hardly assisted in the port's market places.

Instead she found most of her work inside the general stores. She would be asked to help take inventory of stock in warehouses or carry crates around the shops. There were a few times where she had asked elderly women if she could help them carry their groceries and then there were even more times when she was hit and scolded for asking such an offensive question. Accepting no pay was a hard thing to do. But she started to sympathize with the people she had robbed by her stunt pulled a few weeks back. If anything she would learn the pain of losing well deserved profit from hard labor. It also gave her a sense of charitable accomplishment.

Then the thought of Connor angered her. She couldn't help but confirm that he took utter amusement out of torturing her. Why was he so against her anyway? All for a piece of paper?

Emma sighed irritably. She stopped her sweeping inside a general store and thought for a moment. She realized that she hadn't seen Connor at all since her scene in the marketplace. She had definitely thought about him from time to time but usually burrowed away her thoughts for the sake of getting her civil tasks done. Her fear of him had turned into annoyance on the day of the market scene. She replaced her concern for his presence with a concern to get a job everyday. As her paranoia towards him faded, the mystery of him seemed to linger.

Her thought bubble burst at the sound of Mr. Reynolds, the owner of the shop, came into view from the back room. He was a big man, bald and sweaty. He started to lock up the cabinets behind the counter. When he finished, he turned to Emma and said, "That's good, lad. Floors look good so you may go."

Emma nodded and returned in thanks. After she put the broom back in the storage closet, she buttoned her coat to prepare for her cold walk home. She stepped outside into the dark January night and anticipated the cold. The streets were bare and the moon was half full. She hunkered deeper into her collar, trying to keep her face warm.

Suddenly, she heard a strange sound. She stopped in her tracks and turned around in the direction it came from. This store was located on the western side of Boston, jutting out of the city limit and into a grassy meadow. She remembered that there were a few storage sheds and fences behind the store, but didn't think they would contain people at this time of night.

She heard it again; a man's groan, pain induced. She carefully walked over to the side of the store and peered over. About fifty yards away, where the few sheds stood, she saw a great commotion. Many men seemed to be fighting one another. One in particular looked familiar.

She quickly ran up to a wall of fence that stuck out on the side of the first shed and listened. The sounds of blades slashing, flesh tearing, and men grunting filled her ears. Fear started to root in her; maybe this wasn't a good idea.

But she had to see. She looked beyond the edge of the fence and her eyes ran all over the scene. In the center of the community of the three sheds stood a group of redcoats fighting off a single man. They bashed their muskets at him, swung swords, and even tried to shoot. They would have no victory, however, for the man in the middle dodged their every move and ended their lives in a single motion. Emma squinted her eyes at the man and realized it was Connor.

After he had slain the last soldier, Emma stepped out of hiding. Connor's back was to her so he couldn't see her. He went up to two pillories that contained the locked hands and necks of two men, whom Emma presumed as slaves, and picked the locks. Emma stood surprised as he freed the both of them. He watched as they both ran off.

She gaped at him. What was this deed all about? At the sound of his foot turning back, she leapt back for the fence and stood still. She froze as his footsteps on the other side of the fence walked past. She dared not breathe. After they faded away, Emma stepped back out into the moonlight. Connor was out of sight, completely vanished in the darkness. She started for home herself, puzzling over his humanitarian act.

For the next week, she wrapped her mind around him. She couldn't stop thinking about his strange acts. She often got yelled at for dazing into thought so often in her jobs. What was he up to around here?

About three days after she witnessed Connor free the slaves, Emma found a job wiping down the windows of a printing shop downtown. She stood outside, tiptoeing herself to reach the top of the window pane. She wasn't short but also not very tall. The shop owner would have to make do of her attempted work.

The sun was shining out on this day. The blue sky looked beautiful against the white laden landscape. It was a nice change to see from the constant grey blanket that covered the sky every day since winter began. She sighed hopefully as she remembered that her second week of her punishment was over. Two more to go.

Suddenly something flew past her. She spun her head towards the object and followed it. Connor was running through the streets, tomahawk in hand and hood covering his face. Not long after him pursued a hoard of redcoats clamoring about. They all caught stares from citizens but nonetheless kept going.

Emma threw her rag down to the ground before taking off after them. She had to see what this man was all about! She jogged lightly a few paces before stopping in the middle of the street. She saw as the soldier hoard barreled down the avenue. There was a clear left turn ahead of them, so she anticipated. She kept running left, running past buildings before greeting the street they would turn upon. As soon as she saw them, she went after them.

She followed them all across Boston until they finally stopped at a local garden. Connor stood there, waiting to battle his newfound enemies. The soldiers came at him mercilessly as he dodged their strikes. Another man stood a few feet away, bending over his crops. Was Connor defending this man? When he had slain them all, he turned to the farmer and nodded. Then he was gone again.

Emma panted in confusion before turning back to the shop. He certainly had more than one mission on his agenda. Was he some kind of rogue warrior? How did he learn to fight like that? She shook her thoughts away, what really mattered was whether or not Mr. Cray had noticed her absence.

The next day, she worked along the Northern docks, aiding a harbor master with his travel fares. She kept her eyes peeled for Connor throughout the entire brisk morning. She almost wanted to go look for him, to catch him in another act of selflessness. It had to be some sort of heist, he wanted something from the citizens.

Lo and behold she would spot him again. It was midday now and she was tense with curiosity. She watched from behind the outdoor stand as he walked over to a dock about thirty yards away from her. His hidden blade seeped out his sleeve silently. She squinted her focus on him as he crept behind a stack of crates, waiting for his prey to come. A man in a burly jacket and a clean shaven face walked past Connor, oblivious to him. Connor grabbed his coat and stuck his blade into the core of the man, sealing his fate. He then sat the body behind the crates, away from the public's eye and searched his pockets. He found a piece of paper and quickly left the scene.

Emma turned to Mr. Davis, "Excuse me for a moment."

She followed Connor as he jogged lightly towards the North. He kept in a straight line, as if bent on his next destination. Emma hid within the mass of bodies walking about. When the port met it's end, he turned left and approached a man that stood over the pier. He was gazing blankly out into the sea, as if waiting for someone. Connor came up to him and handed him the piece of paper he looted from the man he killed. The man smiled in return before leaving Connor at the edge. Emma gazed from behind a shop corner as he stood motionless, staring out at the horizon. She unconsciously moved towards him slowly, her eyes searching at him with wonder. He moved his broad shoulders in a circular motion, easing the tension in his muscles. He craned his neck to the side with a popping noise escaping it.

Emma shifted closer, not sure what the conclusion of her plot would be. She made sure her steps were soundless and undetectable. He was mere yards from her reach. She spotted a loose stone on the path before her. She halted momentarily before placing her right foot before it. As it she gently set it down she faltered, making a scuffing sound. He immediately stood alert. Her mind spun in panic. Without any hesitation, she ran to him, arms extended out. Her palms pressed into his back, shoving him into the dark freezing water below. She flailed her arms as she almost lost her balance and joined him over the ten foot drop. Her jaw fell at the result of her act in shock. What had she just done?

He surfaced not long after and frantically spun around to face his attacker. After spitting out the salty water, his brown eyes heated with fury at her own cold and ashen pair. She took a few slow steps back and found she was lost for words. He released a growl before paddling back to the pier wall. As he started to climb up, she took off and ran.


	4. Chapter 6

_This is big one! Lots of dialogue and information revealed. Thank you guys for the feedback and support, I absolutely love that. I do not own anything of Ubisoft's characters/content/scenes/events._

* * *

_Secrets_

_Northern Docks, Boston: December 1773_

Emma's thoughts swirled mercilessly. Connor's reaction to her retained in her mind as she fled the scene. It was an expression of hate; a sense of confusion and contempt mixed into the depths of his eyes. She couldn't help but let it haunt her, as it brought back a memory of catching that very same look for the first time ten years ago. Madelyn had given it to her when Emma was five and she herself was eight, on the day Emma was brought home by her father on a brisk spring morning. She remembered how Madelyn stood in that little house out in the frontier, before a pot of boiling soup, staring at her in distrust and fear. Her green eyes scanned her father, begging him to see imposition she felt by the new stranger. When she realized her plea made no avail, the expression was cast to Emma, triggering a tension that had carried on since.

Connor's glance however, didn't come from childhood reminiscence. He was a killer, greatly inclined to take Emma down in strife. In death or captivity, she didn't know what he intended. She only knew that she provoked him and that he was coming after her. Again.

"_Again_," she thought to herself. This little game of theirs was becoming tiresome. How much longer would this continue until someone gave in? Or fall in defeat? She looked behind her shoulder and saw the man in the dripping white robes barreling down the street after her. His rage was apparent through his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. "_It won't be him."_

Emma's fear of him returned. All of her curiosity of him vanished in the time they ran along the port. She deeply regretted following him. He was surely going to kill her now, especially since she kept eluding him. And then provoking him. Why did she push him, to save herself from his wrath? What irony.

However foolish the mistake, Emma had to run and hide. She probably wouldn't live to see another day if she didn't. The problem was finding a place to do so. It would do no good if she tried to blend in with the crowd, for she was certain his eyes were locked on her every movement. So she pushed through the crowd, not making the scene any less domestic. Connor was about fifty yards behind, weaving effortlessly through the mass of people. Her body was on fire from the adrenaline and nerves as she looked around frantically for a safe haven.

Soon she heard a roll of steady drums approaching. She looked ahead and saw a group of redcoats patrolling the streets, searching for hints of trouble. She swore under her breath. If they caught her running, they'd pursue her in suspicion. She made a hard right, turning into an alleyway filled with less people. Her boots nearly slipped beneath her as she tried to regain her bearing for heading straight ahead. There had to be someplace she could hide.

Her options were nonexistent. Nothing in sight could shield her from Connor's grasp. No wagon, fence, or crowd could hide her away. She made another turn, veering left onto another busy street. She ran a few more paces before making a complete stop in front of a printing shop. Her eyes gathered the scene hopelessly as she tried to figure out what to do. Then in an instant too quick to comprehend, Emma felt a hand grab her jacket and yank her into the store. The door slammed as she was cast to the floor. She sat up urgently and looked up at her captor. He was probably a shop apprentice, dressed in a brown overcoat and white stockings. His auburn hair came down to his chin and a pair of spectacles rested before his blue eyes. "What the hell-"

"SSH!" the boy silenced her. He put a finger to his lips to signal silence before nodding his head towards the window. Emma looked up at him confused, but stood up and slowly joined his side. The boy peered through the slit of glass between the two velvet curtains. He then moved his head out and lifted the curtain aside with his forefinger. Emma peaked through, watching Connor look around in frustration. She had never noticed how heavily weapon-clad he was, with a sword, pistol, and a tomahawk placed on his belt. He had other contraptions but she didn't know what they were. His white robes were dripping from his fall in the harbor and his face cast a stoic look, hard with anger. She held her breath and prayed he wouldn't see her. A few moments past and then he left.

Emma faced her rescuer. "Thank you. I think you literally saved my life."

"Not a problem," he said modestly. "Phineas Taggart."

Emma shook the hand he held out. "Emmett."

Phineas studied her from head to toe. "Hm. Hardly. I know what you are."

"Excuse me?" Emma started. "Just because I have darker skin-"

"No!" he rolled his eyes at her. "I know _what_ you are. You're a woman."

Emma looked into his eyes sternly for a few moments. Her face casted suspicion. "How did you-?"

"Oh please I'm a printer! You know how many times a week I encounter people who disguise themselves? I practically work with secrets every day!"

She stared at him quizzically.

"People come in here and lie to me about their identities. They'll pay or bribe me to keep it that way." He stated proudly. "Criminals who want to be innocent, women who want to be men, mulattos who want to "Spaniard" on their identity certificates." He released a chuckle. "Even white governors come in here to clear the blemishes on their names."

Emma gazed in confusion. "And you don't tell anyone?"

"Why would I?" Phineas scoffed and shrugged. "Secrets have their value in coin."

Emma looked coldly at her new acquaintance. She didn't feel safe to trust this boy. He didn't take the hostility though. He returned his glance out the window before continuing. "In fact, his secrets have the highest value of all."

Emma followed his gaze. "Who, Connor?"

"Oh so he has a name." Phineas said amusingly. "And yes he is of very high value. He's wanted nearly all of the time by the authorities. Every time his face is plastered on the city walls however, he comes to me and pays me to take them down. Unless he does it himself." He returned his calm expression to her. "I don't suppose you know of his business?"

"I really don't," Emma responded truthfully. "All I know is that he's dangerous."

"Quite the observer, aren't you?" he smiled smugly. "He's probably a hired mercenary. Hired to help the Rebels inflict damage."

"the Rebels?" Emma inquired.

"Why the people who don't want to pay their taxes! Those who have brawled in the town square and dumped tea in the harbor?" Phineas waited for familiarity to hit her. "Those who oppose King George and his red coated hounds?"

"And you don't?" she shot back defensively.

"I am on nobody's side." he assured with a smile. "Just the coin's. I'll be whatever they tell me to be."

Emma looked back out the window. Her grey eyes highlighted against the sun's glare as they searched the scene. She was safe for now, she figured, but for how long? She glanced back to Phineas. "Could you tell me where he hides?"

Phineas' eyebrows rose in surprise. "You plan to go after him? That force of nature loaded with weapons?"

Emma sighed. "No. I want to avoid him as much as possible."

"Ah," he caught on, "Do you have coin?"

Emma dug into her coat's pocket and held out two dull coins. He looked at her hand with disapproval. "Pfft. Hardly a price, but it'll do." Phineas took the coins from her. "The Green Dragon Tavern. Don't go near there, he's all about going there scheming and recruiting. And maybe having a drink, who knows."

Emma gave a quick nod before approaching the door. "Thank you Mr. Taggart."

"'Til next time!" he called after her.

* * *

_Maywood Residence, Southern Boston: Later That Night_

Emma slapped a map on the table. It was brand new, containing the smell of fresh ink and parchment. Her father had received it from Captain Swayde, who had access to new maps regularly. She spread her hands over it gently, brushing out the rolled corners. She moved a lantern recently lit from the side of the table into her grasp. She hung the dim light over the map and studied it's elaborate content. The words, "Boston 1773" were painted elegantly near the bottom. Above the title rested a bird's eye view of the port of Boston, showing the end of the Massachusetts peninsula filled with little squares and lines in between, depicting the city. The names of ports, shops, and taverns scattered about, making it easier to identify locations. She pressed her forefinger on the map as her eyes searched for the Green Dragon Tavern. She moved her finger slowly up the map as she quietly read off different places. When she reached the North end of Boston, she found it and tapped her finger twice on the marked spot. "There you are."

"Where who is?"

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound. She gasped before turning to face her unexpected visitor. She was surprised to find Madelyn standing in the darkened kitchen doorway, let alone trying to engage with her.

"Sorry for the fright," her older sister started. "Couldn't help but try to find the source of papers rustling and constant whispering."

Emma stared blankly at her. She was wearing her pale colored night dress and wore her sandy hair down. She actually looked lovely in the lantern's light. "Well I wasn't expecting anyone to be awake when I got home. I also couldn't sleep so I thought I'd do some researching." Emma looked awkwardly back at the table. "Sorry for waking you."

"Oh not at all," returned Madelyn "I was simply curious."

A great silence fell between them. Both girls could feel the awkward tension hang heavy in the air. Emma gave her a fake grin before collecting the parchment into a roll. Madelyn shifted uncomfortably before speaking again.

"So who were you looking for?"

Emma was surprised at the comment. "Uh, I was looking for a butcher shop Mr. Yates recommended me to go to tomorrow. Help his brother sell his meat."

"Ah. Sounds like you've been busy." she said rather pleasantly. "I mean, of course you have been considering your punishment and all but," she sighed with content, "how nice it must be for you to finally make your own way."

Emma's eyes blinked with offense at the table. She never really thought of it, but Madelyn had to be enjoying Emma's punishment period. She would look like a good little angel before their father, always taking care of the family home life. It would be the first time in a long while in which she would have them all to herself. She faced her sister again.

"Make my own way? Do you not think that I haven't already?"

"Oh Emma," she said with a smile. "No need to get defensive. I was just saying how nice of a change it is for you to becoming dependent on yourself, you know, instead of on father or any of his friends."

Emma stood up straight and glared at her. "I've been completely dependent on myself ever since we moved here. I've kept my room up, done my laundry, and even got my own food. You've hardly had to look after me." Emma's voice was raising. "Besides, I've had the same job for ten years now. The only difference between that and the jobs I've been currently taking is that I'm gone longer throughout the day."

Madelyn's face became stiff. She folded her arms as she leaned against the doorway.

"I've learned self dependence YEARS ago. No thanks to you, by the way." Emma stepped forward, setting her cold eyes into her sister's. "Actually, I take that back. ESPECIALLY thanks to you. For all of those years of making me feel like a part of the family and not some kind of threat or monster!"

Madelyn scoffed aloud. "Look at you, all in your boyish getup. You strut around the streets, dressed like a man. Talking, walking, and drinking; pretending to be something you're not!" Her green eyes hardened with anger. "You've always had to be one of the boys, fighting and wrestling with them all. Father brings you home from a girl's mission and you turn into an animal; totally loyal and dependent on men's affections." Madelyn got into Emma's face. "And that is how will ever get around in this world, feeding off of their attention."

Emma's eyes blazoned with fury. She breathed angrily through her nose as she stared at her sister's face. How badly she wanted to hurt her, to take a revenge that was rightly hers. Instead, she placed her mouth near Madelyn's ear and whispered through gritted teeth. "At least I don't have to beg for it."

With that Emma brushed against Madelyn's shoulder harshly. Her sister remained there motionless. Emma stomped away from the scene and headed to her room, not caring about the volume of slamming the door behind her. Dropping the map on the floor and kicking off her boots, she climbed into bed and eased slowly into the night.

* * *

_The Next Day_

"Emma wake up."

She opened her grey eyes. She breathed in deeply as she looked up at he voice. Her father was standing over her bed, dressed in his work overcoat, shirt, cotton pants, and boots. He was ready to go somewhere.

"What is it?" she inquired tiredly. "Did I miss Mr. Yates?"

"Yes, actually. It's the middle of the afternoon."

Emma shot up and looked out her window. The shades were pulled together but the bright sun shone brightly through the uncovered slits.

"But that's not why I awoke you." Her father said. "I'd figure since you were home, I'd have you do something around here."

Emma rested her back against the wall. "of course. What do you need?"

Mr. Maywood closed the front door behind them with a lantern in hand. They both greeted the sun kissed day. Emma used her hat to shield it's light. It was in fact, a beautiful day. A blue sky seeped out in patches behind grey clouds. There was no wind and the cold had seemed to reduce dramatically. She breathed in the fresh air.

"Father, where are we going?"

"I'm afraid I can't exactly tell you right now. What I can say is that we are going to a place downtown."

Emma froze for a moment. "what district is it in?"

"East."

She breathed again. "oh."

A few moments of silence fell between them. Then her father faced her.

"I went to my study this morning and found that one of my maps were missing. Its the one I picked up from Swayde nearly a week ago. Do you know what happened to it?"

Emma stared ahead as she answered, "Yes, I took it last night to locate Mr. Yates' shop. I'm sorry for not asking permission."

"No need. I figure you can handle documents." he paused. "I heard a bit of commotion from you and Madelyn last night. Is everything all right?"

Emma stiffened uneasily. "Everything's fine. We just had a disagreement about they way I live."

"Ah," her father responded. "She never understood that. I've tried to tell her that living as a woman with your heritage in these parts is a cruel thing. But I guess jealousy of your boyhood came over her. She's stronger than that; didn't think she would act that way."

"_Perhaps it wasn't the lifestyle that made her jealous,"_ Emma thought to herself.

Silence fell once more between the two and Emma observed the world around her. She and her father were walking past her subdivision, a section of small homes that encircled the green hills outside the city limits. Trees and a great dirt road lay about place, guiding them into the heart of the city. It was amazing to her that they had lived ten years here.

Emma was about to comment on her thoughts but decided to not speak aloud. She remembered that she was still on punishment and that her father wouldn't like the idea of pleasant conversation. She looked at him from the side and saw how his age had taken a toll on him. His body, though tall and strong, had several weak spots such as his pained shoulders and knees. Short grey hairs bristled from the side of his face, down to his chin, and up to beneath his nose. His green eyes had bags beneath them and his worry lines rested on his forehead and along the corners of his eyes. His mouth was slightly curved downward all the time now. The sight made her sad, as she remembered the younger man who had brought her home. He had no bags, worry lines, or any trace of greying hairs. Though he went through the tragic loss of his wife and newborn only months before Emma came to them, there was a smile upon his face. Sam had constantly told her how she rekindled a lost light in his heart.

How she wished for that light to return in his soul. A good father and man nonetheless, Peter Maywood had conformed to the conditions of his ship work and was rather encased in constant toil. He was a weary man. Emma admired the way he never shown distraught to his children. He merely got things done as they needed to; funny how she was similar that way.

Before long, after they passed many brick structures, took in the salty smell of the air, and brushed past people on the stone streets beneath the golden afternoon light, they came across a clearing. They were in the eastern part of the city limits, standing behind a brick building that had it's back to grassy hills and an old wind mill. Emma observed the scene.

"Father what are we doing here?"

He grinned. "I'm going to show you something."

With that, he turned from her and walked to the brick building. He pulled out a key from his coat pocket and bent over a pair of cellar doors that were lodged into the ground. Emma watched quizzically as he unlocked the restraints and opened one of the doors. He faced her again. "Come on now."

Emma ran over and looked into the dark cellar below. She looked doubtfully at her father. "We're going down there?"

"Yes." he replied smoothly. "Now get down there before someone sees us. I'll explain everything."

Without another word, Emma stepped clumsily into the dark hole. Immediately the smell of mildew and dirt filled her nose. She saw that there was a long staircase descending downward and placed her footing carefully upon it. "How are we supposed to-"

Her father slammed the door above him. The hole flooded with darkness. The lantern her father was holding brought light to about ten feet ahead of them. Emma stared into the black abyss before her. She could make out that this place was a tunnel, with dirt walls no farther than seven or eight feet apart from each other. Wooden planks framed the tunnel sporadically, showcasing that this went on for a great distance.

"Hold for a moment." her father went ahead about ten more feet before dipping the lantern's flame into another lantern hanging on the wall. He went ahead and did the same thing ten feet past that point. A golden orange light illuminated the whole place. Emma was amazed.

"What is this?" she said as she followed her father.

"You have entered one of the most secret places of all of Boston. Underground Boston is what it's called but some refer to it was the Freemasons' Tunnels."

"Tunnels?" repeated Emma.

"Yes, this is a maze. For decades, masons or tradesmen would come down here for secret meetings. They could talk and negotiate without the threat of the government's ears. Or their enemies at that. But what's the difference right?"

Emma chuckled. "Yeah." She observed how the dirt walls contained boarded up holes.

"Over the years associates or simple wanderers have come down here in hopes of storing away treasures or finding them. Many have failed to do so, for there are traps in this place." Her father lit another hanging lantern. "Nevertheless, the story intrigues men enough."

"How do you know of this place?" Emma could hear her voice echo down the tunnel.

"That's what I want to talk to you about. There's another side to Eliakim Swayde's shipping company and his own crew. Including myself."

Emma raised an eyebrow to her father. "What, are you guys Masons?"

Her father laughed. "Most certainly not. We're rebels."

They came upon an intersection. As her father lit the nearby lantern, she could see three paths appear before her, one to the left, one to the right, and another straight ahead. They all seemed to stretch out for miles.

"How do you know which way to go?" Emma asked.

Her father pointed to the ground. Big fat squeaking rats scurried down the left tunnel. "Follow the rats."

Emma hesitantly did so. Her father continued to light the way as they walked. "There are eleven known entrances/exits to these tunnels. We just came from one. They are usually cellar doors behind various buildings in Boston but they are also located inside some buildings. There's taverns, shops, and even a church that serves as an entrance. The rats try to find those places."

"Amazing," Emma breathed as they turned left again. "But what did you mean when you said you and the Swayde crew were-"

"Rebels?" her father finished for her. "You'll see what I mean in a moment."

They continued down the dark labyrinth for another good ten minutes. Emma observed how puddles of dark liquid lay about, along with random wooden planks, stones, and rat bones. The sounds of dripping water and rats scurrying echoed throughout the tunnels. They came across a few more intersections and even staircases. The place rang with eeriness.

They finally came across their destination. Her father had led her into the end of a tunnel, which was a wide space containing dozens of crates and a single door ahead. A sign was placed above the door that read, "North Port," in informal handwriting. A lantern was already lit on each of the three walls, showcasing the room in an intimate light. Emma stared in awe.

Her father plopped down comfortably upon a wide crate. He spread his arms out. "Come and see what this is all about! Have a seat."

Emma walked over eagerly, having difficulty with taking her eyes off of the many crates. They were stacked nearly to the ceiling.

Her father cleared his throat and looked into her eyes before he spoke. "What you see in front of you is a legacy. It is the work of Eliakim Swayde, his crew, and myself spanning over the course of twenty years."

Emma leaned closer, deepening her intent to listen.

"Ever since I was a lad I worked on the docks. I knew I was going to be shipper, a man who helps make the deals happen overseas. I met Swayde who had just became a merchant and bought the Virginia Dare," he smiled at the memory. "She was absolutely beautiful too. Anyways we got together and worked alongside. It wouldn't be long before the crown began to lay down rules to us shipmen. They restricted who we sold to, how much we sold, and taxed us for it. We didn't have a say in the matter so we decide to bend those rules." His eyes moved with excitement. "We smuggled sugar, rum, ammunition, you name it! All from the islands in the West Indies or from European merchants. We were very successful and we hid extremely well. The commissioners never suspected a thing." He glanced away solemnly. "But then I met my wife and she didn't like the lifestyle. And truth be told I was never comfortable with the fact that there was a possibility of getting caught and losing everything including my life. So we moved out into the frontier and settled out there."

Emma watched her father speak, never taking her eyes off of him.

"Sam knew about it." His voice became hollow. "I told him about my past when he turned fourteen. Ever since then that's all he wanted to do, was to sail a ship and sell rum." he chuckled at the thought. "His mother wanted to kill me for telling him that. But I had to explain why we couldn't live in the city, which he wanted so much. I had to explain how it was dangerous for our family."

Emma dipped into her memory. She had vague glimpses of scenes where Sam ranted on sailing or trading. It saddened her to think of him.

"He persisted still." Her father continued, staring at the ground. "Before he died, he was planning on meeting with some friends in Boston who would make his dreams come true."

Emma stiffened at his words. She knew what friends they were. She remembered the color of their coats and they way their eyes glazed over when they fell..

Her father sniffed loudly. "There's more hoards you know. Throughout the land, hoards of goods and treasures were cast about by pirates, merchants, and locals. There was one by our house in Leery Hollow."

Emma remembered that. She saw it in front of her. Sam had a map in his hand and followed the paces marked and stepped above the hoard's hollow surface. He jumped on top of it with eagerness.

"I guess he thought he would strike it rich from the contents of that hole." her father said sadly. "All there was in there were broken trinkets and bashed wooden boxes. Just garbage."

Emma read his eyes, "If only he knew." Emma agreed. She remembered how he took his last stand towards the two men that killed his friends. He surrendered on his knees as they encircled them. He grabbed a shovel and swung at them. An arrow was given to him in return.

"After that," her father released a great sigh, "we came here. I came to Swayde, knowing that this was the only work I knew. So we picked up old threads and have been doing it since. And you've been helping us."

Emma grinned at that. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I don't know, I-" he paused in thought. "I wanted you to be safe. I didn't want you to worry or anything. Besides I honestly didn't know how long you wanted to work on a boat full of sweaty men. Didn't think you'd last this long!"

Their laughs echoed through the tunnels. Emma smiled at the crates around her. "This is all..just ridiculous."

"It is," her father complied. "But you also have to know that it's still a serious business. It is tiring, time consuming, and very risky. And please know that this isn't bad work. The only elements that make it illegal are that we sell to people outside the mother country and we hide our stock so we don't have to give it to the King. You can't share any of this with anyone. Madelyn and Grace don't know. Eli does."

Emma shot a look to him. Her nearly voiceless and domestic brother? "Eli?"

"Yep. Even him. The whole crew knows and we all understand that if our secret is let out, that prison or death will be on all of us. What we do is very profitable but potentially risky."

Emma recalled her childhood in Boston. Though it was rough due to the men she worked with and the harsh weather, she realized that her family never went through a winter hungry or a night naked. Her father had always provided for them. Though he could've splurged in some luxury, modesty had to be a part of the guise.

"This is a lot to take in." Emma leaned her back against a tower of crates. "So what are these all doing here?"

"For dry spouts or for holding for long distance customers. It's also nice to build extra stock. The Dutch have been most loyal."

Emma looked at her father. "So what does this mean now?"

Her father slapped his hand on his knee. "This means that your punishment is over. I've seen you take on your responsibilities to heart and have learned great patience with them." He smiled gently at her. "Let's go celebrate with a drink."

Emma smiled as she stood up. "Haven't had one in awhile."

Her father laughed. "Yeah well I figured you deserve one. Besides, I have the whole crew there waiting for us. We've been anticipating filling you in on this."

"Really?" Emma asked. "So it's not because it's Sunday and that they drink together on every one?"

"Nah, not at all." her father teased. He put an arm around her as they walked.

"We have to walk a few ways over to another door to get where we want." her father announced.

"And where is that exactly?"

"The Green Dragon Tavern."


	5. Chapter 7

_Holy cow guys. You have no idea how excited I am for you read this chapter! Please tell me what you think! I don't own anything of Ubisoft - characters/scenes/content/events_

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_Behind Enemy Lines_

_Northern Boston: December 1773_

Emma had never been one to drink regularly. She enjoyed the occasional beer with her father and crew, but she never found true love for it. Julian used to tease her about often, as he drank at least five or six times a week. It was normal for young adults to drink in Boston often but Emma had seen too many of it's negative effects to find a great appeal from it. Due to the witnessing the shame and mistakes that usually ensued after excess she decided to restrain her liquor.

Until the day she sat in the Green Dragon Tavern. A day earlier she had been notified that her enemy had used this place as a common headquarters site. This was his territory. The game now rested in his hands. She grabbed the nearest mug to her on the table. She only managed to take a single gulp before Eli pulled it away. "Hey! Get your own."

Emma scowled at her fourteen year old brother. He was very quiet and said only the necessary things. He was taller than her now and a spitting image of their father. He was getting handsome too, with his sandy hair reaching to his neck and his green eyes getting brighter. He was starting to fill out in his shoulders and face. Emma had seen several girls his age giggle nervously at the sight of him. But he didn't know any better, he was completely oblivious.

Emma remained on that thought. Was she oblivious? Did she not see Connor in the tavern, or was he really not there? She sat at a table in the far left corner, accompanied by Captain Swayde, Julian, her father, Eli, and two other men from the crew. The rest of the crew either went home for the night or wandered about the tavern. Emma observed that it was crowded tonight. Men from all walks of life sat at tables, either drowning their sorrows or curbing their celebrations. It was dimly lit in the room as a few lanterns hung about the grey walls. The sounds of bottles clinking, chairs creaking, and hearty chatter filled the air. The smell of alcohol and sweat wafted into her nose. Men's essence could not be displayed better.

She looked at the people who sat at her table. They sat in chairs reminiscing of old times with mugs in their hands. They were rough, well seasoned men; people she was proud to call her family. However she bore an underlying hatred for them on this night. They had to choose this tavern of all the taverns in Boston. How she wanted to celebrate with them and relax. Instead she sat stiffly, staring the front door down with her cold gaze.

Julian sat next to her, observing her expression. He looked at her and then to the door and then back to her. "No matter how hard you stare at it," he started, "that door isn't going to burst into flames."

She glanced in annoyance at him. "I'm just watching out for who comes in."

"Oh and hello by the way!" he said in a mocking voice."Gee, Julian, I haven't seen you in two weeks. Its wonderful to see you again!"

"Hey I'm sorry I didn't shower you with praises as I walked through the door." She responded coldly. "I'm just a bit on edge."

"I'll say." he said looking into his beer. "Placing a grudge, plotting revenge?"

"Neither." She ignored his jests.

"Alright, well since it is a dangerous place for a man to inquire the roots of a woman's rage I will ask this." He folded his hands together and leaned closer to her. "Did your father show you the map?"

She placed her grey eyes upon Julian's blues. "He mentioned them on the way up here."

Julian grinned. "Good! So you know that there are various maps to both the random hoards about the colonies and to Underground Boston?"

Emma gave a single nod. "And you know that many are still missing? Not just the maps but the hoards as well?"

She nodded again. "Yes. I know all of that."

"And you know that there are no known copies of these maps? That they're just fluttering about in strangers' hands?"

"Yes Julian!" Emma let out in frustration. "I know all of it! Here look." Emma put her hand in her coat pocket and pulled out a corner of an antiqued piece of paper. "He entrusted me to keep this piece."

"Good now put it away." he urged at her.

She rolled her eyes as she slid it beneath her pocket. "Shouldn't have taken it out in the first place."

Julian stared back into his cup. It didn't take long for him to pick it and gulp down nearly all of it's liquid. He sighed in content before looking back to her. She was still staring hard at the door.

"Well I'm going to refill this." Julian pushed the table away from him before leaving with his mug. Emma looked about the installment thoroughly. She went over each persons' faces and looked for any traces of white clothing. Nothing.

She was relieved. She didn't know what she would do if she saw Connor there. Would she run? Or maybe just hide behind her crew? With Swayde's grand laugh and drunken shouting? Impossible. She would have to fight him or at least talk to him. She laughed to herself at the thought. He didn't seem like a discussion oriented guy.

She sat in as she continued to look about the room. Her enemy didn't catch her eye. What did though was the sight of her brother, Eli. He was on the other side of the building, sitting at a table playing a board game by himself. "When did he leave the table?" she thought. With a shrug, she stood up and walked over to her brother. She had to weave through a mass of men, who reeked heavily with alcohol. She was thankful that she had not been dressed as a woman, for they would've given her trouble then. Instead, she got the negative reactions of seeing a native boy walking through. Curses and foul mutterings passed through her ear as she walked by.

Emma approached the table and watched him play. He didn't acknowledge her by any gesture, just kept his eyes to the game.

"What are you doing?" Emma asked over him.

"Nine Men's Morris." he replied bluntly.

"Alone?"

"Yep."

Emma stood silently as she watched him move a dark piece in place of a white one. "May I sit with you?"

Eli gave a slight nod and Emma took the empty chair on the other side of the table. She studied the square board that contained three indented square outlines within it, the each being bigger than the last. On each of these square outlines' sides rested three imprinted holes for the pieces to fill in. Emma looked up at him."How do you play?"

"Get three in a row." He responded without taking his eyes off the board. "And then fill the whole board with your color. You can capture the other color once you get three in a row."

"Interesting," Emma commented. "Let me play."

Eli assembled the board quietly for his new opponent. He removed his dark pieces and handed her the white ones. Then with a slight gesture he ordered her to go first. She placed her white piece on a corner of the largest square. He placed a piece two holes above hers. Seeing that she couldn't make three in a row that way, Emma placed a piece on a random hole in the second largest square. He placed his on the corner of the largest square. Being so occupied with her own strategy, she paid no attention and placed her piece next to the one she had previously filled. She almost had three in a row. Then Eli filled the last hole on the line with his piece and grabbed one of Emma's that sat on the board. "Hey!" she laughed. "I didn't notice that you almost had a complete line."

He gave a small grin. "The object of the game is to be the smarter man. You have to foresee your enemy's ploys."

Emma glanced over the room they sat in. Still there was no sign of Connor. She didn't feel like the smarter man.

"Emma! Come over here!"

Her thought bubble burst at the sound of her name. She scanned the crowd and caught Julian's face looking at her with his hands in the air gesturing her to come over. She turned back to Eli and thanked him. He nodded and returned to his own game.

Emma made her way through the large crowd once more,walking towards Julian. More men seemed to fill the area as the table she was approaching was located near the bar. She nearly lost her hat to wandering elbows but she was quick to keep it on her head. After making one final push through the crowd, she came across a table seated at by one man. She recognized him.

"Emmett!" Sam Adams called to her before shaking her hand from his seat. "Good to see you once more!"

"Likewise." she returned politely. She noticed he was wearing the same red colored coat and brown stockings.

"Got a new coat I see," he observed her garb. "That navy color's good on a young man. "

Emma looked down at her coat she threw on earlier that morning. It used to belong to Eli, as it was given to him as a birthday present. He had taken care of it well as the navy color barely faded and the brass buttons still had a shine. It fit her body well, accentuating her shoulders, hanging close to her waist, and falling no shorter than to above her knees. It made her feel tall and secure. "Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome."" Sam replied. "Now come sit! Julian and I were just talking about our meeting a while back."

Emma took a spare chair from a nearby table and sat between Sam and Julian. She felt awkward sitting at the corner. Soon, she leaned back in her chair, allowing Julian to finish his comment he was saying before she came. She then slowly looked over her right shoulder and scanned the crowd. Her grey eyes narrowed as they went along. There was still no sign of Connor. She then turned her head over her left shoulder and looked beyond Julian's head to where her father was sitting at. He was smiling alongside Swayde. It made her feel good to see her father in lighter spirits.

"May I join you?"

Emma halted at the deep voice. She listened to the slow and heavy footsteps that followed the question. They came from behind her.

Sam Adams turned and smiled at the newcomer. "Of course! Come have a seat, Connor."

Emma froze in her chair. Her heart began to pound louder and a nervous chill crept up her spine. Her eyes hardened with intensity as she shifted her gaze on him. He walked past them slowly, encircling around to the other side of the table. He was still hooded, wearing his white robes loaded with nearly every kind of weapon. He grabbed an extra chair and sat across from them. He leaned in, putting his gloved hands together casually as he rested his forearms on the table. His darkened, stoic face turned to Emma.

Her mouth formed into a straight line. She stared into his face long and hard, feeling anger and fear well up in her core. She exhaled a slow and slightly shaky breath from her nose. The corners of Connor's mouth twitch upward.

"So Emmett," Sam Adams faced her. "Julian said that you play the violin."

Emma kept her straight face at Connor, eyes wide with anxiousness and disliking. Julian nudged her with his elbow. "Em?"

"Yes I do." she said without taking her eyes off of Connor. Sam Adams chuckled nervously as he tried to wrap around her blank responses. "Well that's wonderful. You should play for us someday."

"Someday." she returned quickly.

A great silence fell between all of them. Julian scratched his hair as Sam took a drink from his mug. Connor shifted in his seat and even glanced over the room. She couldn't move her eyes off of him.

"Is everything alright, Em?" Julian asked.

"Yeah." she finally broke out of her hostile trance by turning to her side and rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm just...distracted." She swallowed as she cast a lazy glance back to Connor. His brown eyes slowly met hers, not with contempt but with undivided attention. Why wasn't his look as obvious as hers?

Emma sent her ashen eyes down at the table and removed her elbows from it. She leaned her back against the chair and folded her arms, which tightened the jacket around her biceps and elbows. She didn't care though; she raised her head back up to Connor and just watched him coldly. He slowly dwindled his thumbs as he looked back at her.

Julian broke the silence. "Is anyone thirsty? I'll buy a drink for any one of you lads."

Emma's eyes shifted to the shot glass that sat in front of Julian. It was nearly full with an amber drink. "What is that?"

Julian looked at the glass. "Whiskey."

"Perfect." Without another word, Emma reached for it, tilted her head back, and downed it. She slapped it down with a sour expression. "Whew. Okay I'm good now."

Julian rolled his eyes. "Anyone else? Connor?"

The hooded man looked at Julian and answered steadily. "No, thank you."

Emma leaned back in her seat and glared at Connor. What a saint.

Julian left his seat and went to the bar. After he passed, Sam spoke again. "So how did you and Julian come into acquaintance? You two are a motley pair."

Emma shot a look at Sam, feeling slight offense to his comment. She shook it off as she realized he didn't intend it. "We met as children." she said staring at the table. "I've been working for his father ever since."

"A lifelong friendship." Sam said admiringly. "Rare to find those kind of relations in this life."

Emma scoffed aloud to herself. He had no idea. Did he forget her and Connor's visible heritage?

Sam turned his whole body to her. "So a man of few words, huh? Connor's like that." The hooded man glanced at him before Sam continued. "I can appreciate that. People of that sort tend to be better students."

The three sat awkwardly again as no one responded. Poor Sam Adams had tried his best to initiate conversation. When he saw that it wouldn't happen between the two silent men, he rose from his chair. "Excuse me, gentlemen. I'm going to accompany Mr. Swayde." He turned as Emma nodded in acknowledgement.

And then there were two.

Connor and Emma continued to stare each other down from opposite sides of the table. Their gazes never faltered as they try to read each other's ploys. Emma's icy disposition riddled with fear and angst. Connor appeared calmed and controlled, but nonetheless had absolute focus on her. Emma placed her palms on the table and began to raise herself from her chair. At the instance, Connor did the same, except exposed the tip of his hidden blade from his sleeve. She realized this and slowly sat back down. He mirrored her actions. "Do not try to leave." He said to her gravely. "You will regret it."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows downward. She kept staring into his eyes, anticipating great defiance from herself. She clenched her fist on the table. "What do you want from me?" she exaggerated slowly.

"I want the list." He replied. "Give me the names of Johnson's men."

"Johnson?" Emma asked incredulously. "I don't know a Johnson. I don't even have a list-."

"Yes you do." Connor frowned at her. "You have a paper in your pocket."

Emma stiffened. Her secret map. "It isn't what you think it is."

"Then why the secrecy?" Connor asked in a harsh tone. "Show me that it is as you say."

Emma's mind spun frantically. She couldn't show him the map and betray her father. What if this man was working for the authorities or was even another merchant looking for the lost cargo? She needed to get away from him and there was only one way to do it.

Her hands moved from the surface of the table to the underside. She carefully latched her fingertips beneath the surface's ledge. Then in a flash of a moment, she rose from her chair and flung the table up at him with all of her strength. Connor quickly stumbled out of his chair and let the table crash before him. By the time he looked back at Emma, he saw her coat flail behind her as she ran out the door. The chase began once more.

Emma panted aloud as she ran the streets once again. It was nearly evening at this time and the cold had returned with the absence of the sun. Her breath clouded around her as her eyes remained forward, bent on escaping the scene. She forced her legs to carry her as fast as they could

upon the crowded stone streets. Fear had never been more alive in her. She dared not look back, hoping her speed would lose him.

But she was curious. She looked over her shoulder and saw him coming after her with full speed. She started to whimper aloud between her breaths. "No. No. No!"

Her boot caught a puddle of ice. She faltered but she quickly regained her balance. Snow and ice were well settled upon the ground but she didn't have time to be cautious. She just kept running, whether it would cause her to knock objects over, slip over snow, or even hit people. The spectators around her gasped at the sight of her urgency and destruction. She wished they could help her.

Then he started to catch up to her. She could hear him panting behind her. She squealed in fear and tried to lose him by making constant turns. It worked for the first few as her body allowed her to be more nimble but he adjusted quickly. She was losing time and energy; She was losing hope for her safety. Her eyes searched for protection. They were approaching a desolate area in the northernmost tip of the city as she observed that there were very few people and the buildings became sporadic. She saw a small alley way and hoped it led to a residential area or even a meadow. As she gave herself one final thrust of speed in her legs, a dead end appeared before her. Emma slowed down in despair before making a complete stop. She turned to see Connor and received his contact in full force.

He knocked her to the ground, landing her on her back. The wind was knocked out of her lungs and she felt major pain in the back of her head. She watched as Connor pinned his knees on her thighs. He then shoved his palm into her chest and placed his other bladed sleeve at her throat. "Give me the names!" he yelled fiercely. "Show me the list or I will kill you!"

Emma searched frightfully into his eyes. She hadn't seen them this hostile or even this desperate for an answer.

He waited behind clenched teeth. "What's it going to be?" He shook her violently. "Huh?"

Emma became paralyzed. Her mind couldn't wrap around her scenario. She just looked at him silently.

"I'm tired of your games." he whispered angrily. "You have been nothing but a thorn in my side, honing my purpose to a never ending halt!"

Emma flinched under every word. "We are going to end this tonight. Show me the list."

Emma blinked up at him before raising her head from the ground. She furrowed her brows, gritted her teeth, and stared directly in to his eyes before mustering all of her spite into her voice. "Ó:nen ki' wáhi."

His eyes glimmered with surprise. His scowl reduced as he lowered his face to her. "What did you just-"

Suddenly Emma could feel the weight of Connor thrown off of her body. She gasped for air while she herself was being thrust up against a brick wall, hitting her head again. She could feel her arms being forced above her head, held by two hands on each arm. Her grey eyes were frantically absorbing the scene, catching scarlet coated soldiers subduing her and Connor. She saw as they took a metal rod to the back of his knees, forcing him to groan in pain and kneel to the ground. Three soldiers pointed their muskets to his head around him.

She looked to her sides and saw two men holding her wrists above her. Two more a few feet away from each stood soldiers with pointed muskets. She wriggled in protest, trying to liberate herself. She heard a series of malicious laughing around her.

"Stop, boys, that's enough." said a commanding voice. "No need to torment our captive."

The guards immediately obeyed the man's words. They stood upright as he approached the scene. He was a tall and gallant man, clothed in brown pants, a white vest, and an intricate blue overcoat. He had the finest leather upon his boots and even had some feathers on the side of his broad black hat. His brown hair was combed back into a ponytail and he had a clean shaven face. He had to be no more than a year older than Emma. He looked to Connor as he spoke. "Place of him over here," He pointed to a space on Emma's right. "I want him to see this."

One of the three guards nudged Connor with his boot. Connor obeyed the soldier and walked over to his designated place before getting hit in the knees again. The leader of the group walked towards Emma slowly before appearing inches away from her face. "Hello Em," he smiled broadly. It's wonderful to see you again."

"Quinton." She said in disgust.

"Actually it's Captain, now, "He replied. "Captain Peace."

Emma glanced over his body. He had filled out dramatically since she last saw him, having his arms built up and shoulders broad. He observed her glances. "Oh, do you like the uniform? I do, I think it compliments me nicely." He looked down at himself as he spoke. "Not to mention I get to wear this fine craft on my belt." He showed her a long gleaming sword. "I can see that you haven't changed much, unless you're hiding something behind your shipman get up."

Emma glared at him in defiance. Her expression hardened with contempt as her eyes pierced his own yellow eyes.

"I can see your attitude hasn't changed much." he looked down at her softly. "How long has it been? Two years since our last bout?"

His eyes searched over every inch of her face almost lovingly. "Isn't it odd, gents," he raised his voice to his men, "how some of these mutts turn out so beautiful? "They're painted gold, given light eyes, and keep their flowing dark hair." The men around her chuckled in kind. "Oh and Em, you are ever so the mutt." He raised a hand slowly to her. "How the native in you protrudes your face. Accents your cheekbones. Straightens your nose. Contours your jaw. But you have a white man's eyes; rounder and less-"

"Don't touch me!" She spat at him. He moved his hand away before returning it on her neck.

"Still cold as ice," he chuckled to himself. "Men, do you know what this deviant does when it likes a person? Gives 'em a kiss. Right before kicking it where men hurt most."

Emma's eyes shifted to Connor, who returned an alerted look to her.

"Oh! It's been done again boys! This man here has gotten a taste of it!" He yelled amusingly before walking over to Connor. "Tell me, savage, did you like it? A bit fun don't you think?"

Connor lifted his eyes in spite and flared his nostrils. Captain Peace analyzed his expression. Connor watched as his demeanor changed from curiosity to shock. The uniformed man raised his eyebrows. "You don't-" he paused in shock. "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" Connor asked angrily.

The Captain's face lit up. "Oh boys, this is amusing. What a pleasurable time this is!" He clapped his hands together as he walked away from Connor. "Let me enlighten you sir!"

The Captain took quick strides over to Emma. She wriggled as she saw him coming towards her. He placed his hands on her hat. "No, please, don't!"

"Sh, sh, ssshh, it's alright," he assured her. "I'm just going to fill your friend in on a little secret of yours."

Emma looked down in defeat as the Captain removed her hat from her head. He gently untied the bands that restrained her hair. Dark waves fell upon her shoulders, reaching as far as her ribcage. The Captain ran his hands through her hair as he lay them out smoothly upon her coat. "Alas! She's a girl!" he cried merrily. "Or shall I say a woman now?"

Emma shot a despairing look to Connor, who gazed at her with stern eyes. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his mouth opened partly. She quickly returned her gaze to the Captain.

"Your eyes give you away, Emma. Lashes to long upon a face too slender to even hint masculinity." He paced as he talked. "Don't know how this brute didn't see it, but you fooled him nonetheless." He stopped in his place. "Tell me, why did my men and I stumble upon you guys on top of one another? Did we interrupt something special?"

"No." Emma snapped at him. "He was trying to kill me."

"For what?" the Captain inquired seriously. "What was it he tried to get out of you?"

Emma stared at him in silence. She raised her chin in noncompliance as he approached her. She dare not say.

"Fine then." The Captain sighed before rubbing his hands on her, searching for loose content. She wriggled violently against his touch. "Get you r hands off of me!" They went from the top of her shoulders, down her ribcage, and curved around her waist before he patted her pocket located at the bottom of the jacket. He heard paper crinkle beneath the fabric. "Here we are."

The Captain lifted the paper from her pocket and unfolded out in front of him in the twilight. He carefully analyzed it. "Looks like we've got a map. Is this what you were looking for, sir?" He waved it at Connor. "A map?"

The Captain returned his gaze to the aged parchment. "It's interesting how there's no dates, names, or numbers. Just scattered triangles within an enclosed shape." He looked back at Emma. "What does Miss Maywood need a map this obscure for? Is she trying to look for buried treasure?" A revelation then popped into his head. "Maybe she's trying to hide something." At that, he quickly approached her and peered in closely to her face. "Don't think I don't know your family's little secret. I know the greed and the legacy. You can thank Swayde for that, as he was ever so modest about his success." He tilted his head. "But you all have never been caught. Not one shred of evidence left!" His eyes flared with frustration. "But know that when I search your ship, your homes, or wherever else you hide I will find it! Starting with this," he lifted the map, "I will bring an end to you."

Emma's eyes beckoned in hate as his bore into her. Her anger was hard to contain in her vulnerable position. She breathed heavily through her nose and her chest rose repeatedly. The Captain smiled at her anguish. "You will suffer for what you did, mutt."

Without a word more, Emma spat in the Captain's face. He closed his eyes silently as he let the frustration come over him. He wiped the saliva off with his sleeve before sighing in deeply. Then he grabbed her.

He tore her wrists away from the bondage of the soldiers' grasps and flung her to the cold ground. Her fingers urgently dug into the icy stones beneath her as she tried to crawl away. But before long, the Captains boot lodged into her side. Emma winced and cried in pain.

"Stop this!" Connor protested. "This is my fault, she's not the one you want!"

The Captain mused at his the native's notion. "Ah so you care for her all of the sudden? Good."

Emma was kicked again in the stomach, bringing blood up from within her. She cried at the release of pain and felt water well up in her eyes. She waved a hand up in surrender before she was kicked again. The tears fell. Connor began to stand. "This does not need to happen! Stop this now!"

The soldiers around him placed the end of their muskets on his face, back of the head, and chest. He stopped moving, watching the abuse continue.

The Captain walked over to her legs, watching as she still tried to crawl away. He smirked before smashing her right calve with his heel. Emma screamed in agony as she turned onto her side, cradling her leg. Tears rushed out of her as she looked up at the Captain. Her eyes narrowed at him with pure animosity. "Go to hell Peace!" She yelled at him. "Damn you to hel-"

Emma erupted screaming again. He smashed her left calve, leaving her to writhe in pain. She was sobbing now, tears coming from such suffering. After a few moments of collecting herself, she began to dig her nails into the ground once more. She inched away from the scene slowly. The Captain chuckled above her. "What an inspiring scene. But if you keep trying, you're just going to keep getting hurt. I offer my help to you." He held a hand out to her as he waited for her to stop. She didn't. "A poor choice." He walked over to her side and kicked her once more.

At the sound of her cry, Connor snapped. He grabbed the musket that rested against his face and yanked it away from the soldier's hands. He spun around as he rose, hitting the other two muskets out of his way. He then aimed it at the two men holding the muskets and shot them both. Four other soldiers rushed to bring him down. They all had muskets in their hands. He took a wide stance as his enemies formed around him. His eyes monitored all of their movements, anticipating strikes. A man to his right lunged at him with the bayonet of the musket. Connor deflected the blade with the musket he held and shoved the man away. Right after that he did the same to another soldier coming in from his front left. He spun around and stepped to his right as a soldier missed striking him from behind. Connor dropped the musket and pulled out his tomahawk from his belt. He swung it and lodged it into the soldier's back, terminating the man's life. Then another swing came for him from the fourth solder and Connor somersaulted beneath him before rolling back up and hacking that soldier's back as well. His feet spread wide as he anticipated the two other men he previously pushed away. One of them came at him thrusting the musket at him. Connor resisted the blunt strike by raising the tomahawk against it. He blocked more strikes as they came down on him. He heard a musket cock from another soldier. He immediately grabbed the soldier's musket before him, spun the man around, and threw the weapon around the soldier's neck. He held the soldier there as a human shield until his fellow soldier shot him down. Connor picked his tomahawk from the ground and took long strides to the last soldier. He jumped on him, hacking the blade repeatedly into his chest. After the soldier fell lifeless, he turned his attention to the Captain.

Connor stood in a wide stance in his blood stained white robes. He held his tomahawk up to his right ear and held up his other hand in aim towards the Captain. He exhaled deeply.

"Impressive." Captain Peace remarked. "Are you some sort of mercenary or rogue soldier?"

Connor remained silent as he took another step closer.

"Uh-uh." The Captain warned. "You don't want to do that. This one will get it again."

Emma was held in a headlock by the Captain's arm and had the hilt of his sword to her head. Connor could see that he had already hit her as a damp red spot appeared near her forehead. He furrowed in anger.

"Now lets just take this easy," the Captain started walking backwards with Emma. "Stay there as Em and I will leave the scene. She'll be coming with me to Fort Hill, where we can work things out."

Connor began to aim for the Captain's head. He centered the Captain's face between his fingers but the captain caught him. He stopped in his tracks and lowered the sword hilt closer to Emma's head. Connor bit his lip in frustration.

Emma stumbled along painfully as the Captain pulled her back quickly. He was at least a foot taller than her and twice her width. He expressed great power over her and she feared further fate with him. She watched Connor struggle as he tried to find a way for him to strike the Captain. Emma glanced at the gleaming hilt above her before an idea popped into her head. She raised her right elbow up her body. Then she thrust it into the Captain's abdomen as hard as she could. She was immediately released and she ran for the nearest musket on the ground. The Captain tried to catch her as she leapt for it. She then rolled on her back, aimed the gun upwards and hoped it was cocked. She aimed down the barrel of the huge rifle and pulled the trigger. With a thundering "crack," A red stain appeared on the captain's chest, oozing profusely. He touched it before kneeling to the ground. Emma stared at him with wide eyes as he finally fell to his side. She put her head back down and breathed raggedly.

Connor rushed over to her side. He started to place his hands beneath her. At the touch she started to scream and wriggle violently. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" She flailed her arms up at him and kicked her feet as he raised her from the ground. Tears began to fill her eyes. "Stop please! Get away!"

Connor remained silent as he struggled to tried to contain her in his arms. He had to keep dodging his face away from her punches as he walked. Her screaming continued, ringing as shrilly as a bell alarm. He looked around the scene and found a few people watching them in horror. It wouldn't be long before more soldiers would come. He needed to silence her. He took his right hand that held up her back and moved up to behind her neck. He placed his index finger near he collar bone and pressed down hard. She immediately fell silent.


	6. Chapter 8

_~Here we go.~I don't own anything of Ubisoft - characters/scenes/events/content_

* * *

_Strange Circumstances_

_January 1774_

Pain throbbed mercilessly in Emma's core. Never before had she experienced such an intensity of soreness and aching. She acknowledged it with a sharp exhale as she placed her hand over her abdomen. Her eyes blinked open at the sensation, greeting a wooden ceiling. When she realized that she didn't recognized it, she sat up alarmingly in the bed she lay. Her eyes observed the room frantically, trying to figure out where she was. It looked like a cabin, or a room inside one at least, having it made entirely of raw tree trunks and limbs. A single window was placed on each of the four walls and showcased a nighttime sky.A fireplace stood directly in front of her, holding a small dancing fire that illuminated the room in a golden light. A door stood on the wall to her left, closed but unlatched. Wooden tables and chairs stood idly about the room and a few paintings hung on the walls. It's charm nearly measured up to its warmth.

Emma cast the cotton blanket off of her. She looked down at her body and found that her uniform was absent, leaving her in her breast bindings and a pair of loose capri pants; her underwear. She gasped at the thought of someone undressing her and looked for a sign of another person in the room. No one was there or any indication of baggage or personal property. She decided to walk around and investigate further. Her bare feet stepped lightly across the floor boards as she looked at everything around her. She immediately saw her coat, shirt, pants, stockings, and boots lay before the fire. Uneasiness came to her as she saw the blood on her coat and shirt. She remembered the abuse given to her earlier that day from Captain Quinton Peace and winced at the pain thriving inside of her. She set her left hand down on a table by the bed's right side and bent over with agony.

A few moments passed before she heard a commotion outside the door. Her head lifted in panic as she anticipated an imposition in the near future. She looked for a weapon to defend herself with but none were around. Her eyes set over a thick book that rested upon the same table she leaned on. She picked up it up, held it behind her head, spread her feet wide, and waited for the intruder to enter.

Her grey eyes widened as footsteps approached the entrance. The stranger meddled with the door knob before letting the cold air rush in. With great force, Connor barged in. He was still clothed in his blood stained white robes and beaked hood.

"Stop there!" Emma barked at him. "Don't come any closer."

Connor looked at her with surprise before closing the door behind him. "You are awake."

"Yes and nearly naked too!" She shrilled, "How dare you undress me!"

Connor removed his hood and gestured with his hands as he answered steadily."Look I had to. Your clothes were wet from the snow and you would get sick-"

"Get sick?" she asked incredulously. "Hours ago you were trying to kill me and now you're caring for me?"

He sighed. "Put the book down and we can talk about it."

Emma stared into his eyes. Their golden brown gaze was soft, the least hostile she had ever seen from them. Her stare grew sharper. "No way. I don't know if you recall or not but we aren't exactly friends at the moment!"

"I realize that you and I are not on peaceful terms-"

"Peaceful terms?" Emma scoffed. "Never before in my life have I been so afraid of a person! Ever since I've met you, I've dreaded seeing you in fear of being stalked, beaten, or killed!" Her voice was rising. "Several of those things have actually happened thanks to you!"

He scowled in anger. "I am not the only one to blame here. You led me astray! If you had revealed that you didn't have the list, I would have stopped stalking you!"

Her eye brows raised in surprise. "If only I had thought of that then. Oh wait, I did! But perhaps you couldn't hear me over your arm crushing my throat"

He clenched his fists at his sides."How else am I supposed to know otherwise if you kept running away from me?"

"Gee, let's think," she said while placing a finger on her chin while glancing upwards. "Should I run from the man who's tried to kill me in the past, or should I go up and see what he wants to talk about?"

He glared angrily at her.

"Not to mention, you caused me to destroy an entire marketplace!" She shouted in rage.

"You pushed me into the harbor!"

Silence filled the room as they both stood red-faced and tense with anger. Connor fazed frustration and was tempted to restrain her. Emma sealed deadly eyes upon him and resisted all she could to keep the book in her hand. All the hatred and frustration they had for each other boiled in between them. Only a bed stood in their way from releasing their wraths.

After a few moments past, Connor looked downward and sighed. Emma could see the hostility melt away from his eyes before he coolly spoke to her. "Look, we can choose to kill each other now or we can sit down and have a civil conversation. Which do you prefer?"

She dared not to lessen her gaze. Her eyes stayed on his face with distrust as she contemplated his plea for peace. Then she eyed his belt.

"After you put down your axe - thing."

He looked at her in disbelief. But after seeing her grey eyes framed in seriousness he complied and set the tomahawk down on a table behind him. He then took a few strides forward.

"Wait." she told him. "Grab that chair and sit on that side of the bed. I'll sit over on this side."

He sighed in annoyance as he reached for a chair and effortlessly picked it up. He placed it down before the left side of the bed and took a seat in it. Emma did the same on her side.

Connor's eyes shifted awkwardly over her. "Do you have something else to wear?"

"No I don't," She returned distastefully. "Now talk."

Connor put his head down and let out another sigh before he looked back at her. She sat up straight, having her grey eyes lock him into a cold stare. Her dark hair fell past her shoulders and she had her arms crossed. A large bruise formed on her forehead above her right eye. In fact, he could see nearly all of her injuries including her purpled wrists, scattered bruises, and the horrific contusions on her abdomen. The sight of them heated his words.

"You became my responsibility when he revealed your piece of paper," he began. "It showed me that you did not have the list I wanted. Therefore, you were no longer an enemy. When he beat you I knew even more so that it was all my fault because it showed me that my false assumption brought you harm." His gaze lay heavy with sincerity. "I am sorry for the hurt that has been done to you."

Emma was taken aback by his words. Was this the same man she had ran from in sheer terror numerous times this month? Was this the same man who gave her death stares, taunting looks, and even a blade to her throat? She looked down at her lap as she responded, "So what is your plan now?"

"I am going to take you to Davenport Homestead. There you will get the medical attention you need."

She looked back up at him rigidly. "Why didn't you take me home? Or to a doctor in town?" She grew anxious as her thoughts turned into words. "What about my family? They don't even know where I am! They probably think I'm dead or I ran away!" She rose from her chair and started limping towards the door. "I have to get back to them."

Connor rose from his chair and halted in front of her. "No. You are not leaving because you are badly hurt and are in no condition to travel."

She glared up at him. "Isn't that what we're doing now?" She tried to walk past him.

"No," he affirmed by blocking her path again. "I have carried you the entire way up here. You can hardly walk as it is."

Emma blushed at such devotion. She blinked down in nervousness.

"Besides," he said firmly, "You have your secrets and I have mine. Taking you to your family or to anyone else in Boston would have revealed everything. All that we have worked to keep up for so long would have disappeared in an instant."

Emma remained in thought of those words. If she had gone to a doctor or her family there, she would have revealed her false identity. She would be brought under the public eye as she would be seen and talked about as the hurt girl who pretended to be a boy. She would lose her access on the docks or even the world. Even her family would be shamed and labeled.

"Fine." she finally said. "I'll go with you. But there's no way that I'm sleeping in the same room as you."

Connor's eyes narrowed in incredulity. "Would you not think that I have had more than a perfect chance to kill you already?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," she responded. "I don't like you."

He scoffed lightly while his nose twitched in annoyance. "You expect me to leave for the night because of your feelings towards me?

"Yes," Emma replied as a matter of fact.

"Well then," Connor stared down at her before walking past her, "the next time you get injured, carry yourself through the snow, locate an inn in the dark wilderness, and pay for the only room to stay in, you get to pick the sleeping arrangements."

He unfolded a blanket and placed on the hard wood floor. "As for now, we both sleep here tonight."

Emma groaned in annoyance before climbing back into bed. The fact was that she really was still afraid of him, and disliked the thought of him being in such close proximity to her. He was a dangerous man and deserved every right to be suspected of. But then she wondered. Why had he chosen to take care of her? "_His responsibility?"_ she echoed in her mind. _"What kind of person heals their enemies, especially after seeing them lose a fight? Shouldn't that have been a victory for him?" _

She turned over to her right side as she lay and glanced over the bed. She couldn't help but feel how strange of a circumstance this was. Her long feared enemy's back was turned to her, breathing steadily into sleep. She observed that he had sleek black hair that came down to the bottom of his neck. The crown layer of his hair was pulled back into a small ponytail. It was different seeing him without his hood, as it revealed an actual person beneath. A strange circumstance indeed.

Emma found it hard to dress herself the next morning. The pain was unbelievably raw throughout her, making it difficult to move her limbs. She winced as the rough fabrics rubbed onto her skin. Regret soon filled her for choosing to wear that particular outfit a day earlier as it was pretty well fitting. After what seemed like a half hour, she was finally dressed back into her clothes, limping along the snowy trail that stood outside the cabin. She was to meet Connor at the stables, where they would travel by horse for the rest of the day.

A frown appeared on her face at the sight of him. Connor was talking to a man, probably the stable master, about their next travel arrangements. He handed the man a few coins before taking in the reins of a nearby horse. It nuzzled him as he stroked it's mane.

The beast sensed her there and turned it's head to her. Connor followed it's gaze.

"If we leave now we should get to the first checkpoint by evening," he said while placing a saddle on the horse. "The skies are clear so it should be a smooth journey."

"We're taking just one horse?" Emma asked.

He tied some leather sacks to the saddle. "You can not ride on your own."

Emma looked down displeasingly. The last thing she wanted was to be so close to him for hours at a time. She faced him again.

"I can most certainly ride on my own and I will. There is no need for sharing."

He smirked at her comment. "We are not going to share. You are going to ride, I will walk beside you."

"Oh," she said in embarrassment. "Right."

The day was indeed beautiful. The sun shone brightly over the Massachusetts wilderness in a wide blue sky. The green pines around them stood tall and chilled with sparse bushes about them. The ground was snow laden and the early morning fog was beginning to rise away. The high pitched whistle of moose sounded in the distance.

As she rode along side saddle, Emma found herself in awe of such natural beauty. She hadn't seen a forest like this in a long time. Her eyes gazed over the great valley they were to descend into, where a sea of trees caved into the earth before a majestic face of a frosted mountain range.

"It's beautiful out here," she noted to him. "And this homestead is in the middle of this place?"

"Not exactly," he replied looking straight ahead. "It is out by a bay, but nonetheless is surrounded by wilderness."

"Hm." she imagined the scene. "Seems pleasant."

An hour or so passed before Emma began to think the scenery was no longer interesting. Instead she looked at Connor, who had his hood down. She studied his face for a few moments. The corner of his eye caught her behavior and he turned his head the other way uncomfortably. "Is something wrong?"

"You're not entirely native are you?" She asked observingly. "There's European blood in you."

His glanced toward her direction with a straight face before looking forward again.

"No need to be ashamed. I'm half too. In fact, we're more common than you might think."

Connor remained silent, maybe even a bit peeved. Emma wondered at his past, his roots, and his family. He didn't seem like he was fond of any of it. She left the matter alone as she continued to stare at him. He wasn't a bad looking man, handsome even. He was well built too and tall. She wondered if he had a loved one back at this homestead.

"Would you stop?" He snapped her.

"I'm sorry," Emma said truthfully. "I didn't realize how much you're not used to having people stare at you."

"I am perfectly used to that," he shot back, "but unlike them I can not simply walk past you."

"But you are walking, nevertheless," she returned. "Might as well enjoy the view while you can."

He looked up to her and saw a playful grin creep on her face. He quickly turned his head in annoyance and grunted.

A few moments passed before Emma's jaw dropped open. "Connor, stop!" she whispered harshly.

He looked to her quickly before glancing all around him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she said staring upward. "I just have to.." She started sliding herself off of the horse, "Get down."

He gently caught her waist with his hands. They nearly touched each other around her. She winced as the contact against her injured core but noted the warmth and gentleness that came with it.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Emma continued to look upward. "I'm going to see."

When she started to trek across the trail, her limps were nothing short of meager and pathetic. But she managed and settled slowly onto a snowbank below a great fir tree. Connor stood a few feet behind her.

"We are wasting day light by halting our journey." he said urgently.

Emma ignored him. "There is a book," she said while staring upward, "in my father's library. It has sketches and a few pieces of information of the creature who rules the sky. I've never seen him but I've always wanted to."

Connor looked around before approaching to her side. "And now he's here," she whispered. "Right before my eyes."

Connor looked upward and saw what she was talking about. A great bald eagle perched on top of the tree, his white head gleaming in the sun above his coat of brown feathers. Connor looked back at Emma, who's face shed a light smile adorned with admiration. His eyes furrowed in confusion. "Have you not seen this before?"

"Never," Emma said breathlessly. "But he's amazing."

"Were you not raised out here?"

Emma stopped smiling and looked to him seriously. "I am not from out here. Boston's all I've ever known."

Connor looked downward and remained silent. He sniffed and looked at the sun's course. "We should leave now, before night falls too late."

Emma stared at her new pet. "Alright. We'll go."

"Do not do it again."

A look of puzzlement washed over Emma as she watched him walk away. Her head shook as she scoffed. She managed to stand up on her own and released a harsh exhale from the soreness in her legs. She once again took on her trek across the path, her boots trudging along the snowy ground. Her hands placed over her stomach as she walked, tender with pain. She released a shudder and right at the sound, she found herself lifted from the ground. She let out a surprised noise and threw a balled fist into the force that grabbed her before finding that Connor had lifted her in his arms. He stared down at her, offended. She looked up at him. "Instinct."

Before long he carried her towards the horse. He set her down before placing his hands around her waist again to lift onto the horse. She grinned down at him. "Thanks."

He twitched his mouth before leading the horse forward again. Soon the rhythmic clopping of the horse started again and the cold wind blew silently past them. Emma could see the eagle grow smaller as they descended in to the valley. She hoped to see him again.

A few hours passed before darkness consumed the land. The sky welcomed the twilight with shades of blue and purple. The gaps in between the trees grew dark and the giants themselves grew ominous in their stature. The moon was filled to a half and shed a white light upon the face of the mountains before them. Even the snow gleamed in the moonlight.

However beautiful, the natural scene around brought it's fierce undertone, the chilling air. Emma couldn't help but shake miserably under her nearly tightly fitted coat. Her breath clouded with every shudder around her mouth and she tried hard to suppress it. She didn't want to burden Connor, let alone make herself appear more useless than she already was. He seemed perfectly fine in the cold. She cupped her hands together and blew her warmth breath on to them. Her eyes closed at the soothing sensation.

It didn't take long for her to notice that the horse had stopped moving. She opened her eyes and saw that Connor had apparently been staring at her. Her hands quickly went down.

"We are going to be staying the night in the cave over there," he pointed over her right shoulder. "It should be dry and without creatures."

Emma spun her head at him. "What if there are?"

"I can handle them." He took confident strides towards the entrance. Emma sneered a laugh to herself at the sight before guiding the horse to follow him. The cave was along the side of the mountain, a bit of a ways into the forest they walked past. Connor trudged knee deep into the snow as the horse reluctantly followed. Emma looked around as she rode along, seeing the moon light the path they were on before. She immediately realized that if any chance would be given to her for escape, now would be the time. The idea danced around in her mind, pushing her eagerness. Where would she go though? She didn't know these woods and could barely walk. Her eyes returned to Connor's back. Did he really intend to just take her to the homestead and have her be healed? He was a killer, trained to do no less apparently.

Distrust solidified in her eyes. She glared at him, thinking of all of the possibilities of what he could do to harm her. Words from her father came to her as she recalled him telling her to never trust anyone. She knew that best, as she experienced a lifetime of hostility from strangers and even sometimes her own acquaintances. She was certainly wasn't going to take any chances with this man, who carried deadly connotations in every step he took.

A sharp exhale came through her nose. Her mouth straightened and she threw her other leg over the saddle. The pain seared through her muscles as she did so but she remained concentrated, ironing her grip upon the reins. She stared at Connor as she pulled the reins slowly towards the direction she came from. The horse chortled softly at the sudden tug of direction but obeyed nonetheless. She was thankful that the snow softened the hooves' sound as they crept away. Connor was just stepping into the cave when the horse placed a hoof upon the snowy path. Emma watched with intense eyes, holding her breath and hoping that he wouldn't turn and see her. She decided to guide the horse down the path they were to go down in the morning, figuring that civilization would be closer that way than the way they came from.

The horse walked steadily along the path, oblivious of the stealth proposed by its rider. Emma released a cloud of breath into the dark world around her, anticipating his attention. So far everything was fine. She was now at a 45 degree angle from the cave entrance and felt confident that her plan could work. Her eyes continued to watch as she rode.

The man clad in white suddenly appeared back in the forest. Emma's heart raced as she saw his head spin to her, catching her in the act. He immediately began to run her, the deep snow being his only hindrance from full speed. She whipped the horses reins and kicked its sides as she cried for it to run. The horse neighed at the command, thrusting its leg into a fast gallop.

The fear had returned, of him catching her. All of the emotion of dreaded anticipation and paranoia she had of him earlier grew ballistic inside her. She breathed unevenly and felt the blood pulse wildly through her. After a few moments, she glanced back and saw him pursuing behind her. She urged the horse to go even faster.

Down the valley they went, turning hard through the curves upon the narrow and snowy path. The trees around her turned into green and black blurs as she flew past them. The cold wind had begun to bite the tip of her nose and ears. She didn't mind the bitter temperature as she concentrated on dodging surprise turns and great rocks upon the road. Her goal was to just get as far away from him as possible.

She kept a hard pace for nearly five minutes before looking back behind her. The path behind her stood bare and dark with no trace of a man. She breathed in relief a little, knowing she was no longer in his grasp. A light laugh escaped her lips at the thought of her success. Then a small whimper came through, acknowledging the release of her emotional tension. She looked ahead and saw the path move up into a hill. With a destination in mind, she whipped the reins again.

The horse lightly galloped along the trail, following the dramatic suspension of the land. Emma looked to her side and began to see that she was starting to get out of the great valley they were in. The sea of green sloped beneath the star blanketed sky. She sighed at the beauty once more.

"Halt!"

Emma quickly snapped her head to the voice heard in front of her and yanked the reins for her beast to stop. She gasped aloud and breathed heavily at the sight before her. A company of seven redcoats stood before her, imposing and formidable. Her grey venomous eyes glanced over all of them in fear and shock. They were the last thing she expected to see in this wilderness.

The captain of the company stepped forward with a gloved hand stretched outwards. "Halt, miss?" he questioned her gender. "State your business in these parts."

Emma searched frantically for an answer in her head. She kept her eyes wide on the captain, thinking of the best thing to say. She could only imagine the impression she gave as she sat in a man's uniform with blood on it, her hair flowing dark and wild about her head, and bruises scattered over her face and neck. Her mind went blank and her mouth opened with a stutter. "I-I'm running away."

The young leader gave her a quizzical look. "From what?"

She swallowed. "A man."

"Did he harm you?" the young captain asked. "Come with us and we could escort you to a medic in our camp nearby."

She looked at the different faces in the company. They were all staring at her with expressions of confusion and suspicion.

"No." She looked back at the captain. "Just let me through so I can get home."

"Surely you are hurt, madam. Let us extend our hand to you."

Another cockney accent piped up behind the captain. "What does it matter, sir, she's only a savage!"

The captain faced his fellow man. "She is an injured woman! We can not leave her in this desolate condition!"

"Yes you can," she assured to the captain. "That man is following me now. Surely he will come this way and stumble upon your company as I have. You can take care of him."

The captain looked up to her doubtfully before sighing. "Surely that is all you request?"

"Yes please. Just take care of him."

"What does he look like?"

"He is a native dressed in white robes. He is also a skilled warrior." she responded.

The captain turned to his crew before looking back to her. "We will watch for him."

She breathed in relief. "Thank you."

The company stepped aside the path to let her pass. She trotted past them quickly down the road, which continued onto a flat forested plateau. She kept her gaze narrowed onto the road before her as the horse neighed. Her head turned over her shoulder at the company who was shrinking in the distance. Would they terminate his life and finally free her from his grasp?

She breathed out slowly before ushering her horse to gallop once more.


	7. Chapter 9

_Hey everyone! I now have 10 followers! WOO! That was my goal before I even started this story so thank you guys for making that happen! I can't appreciate enough the support and reviews you guys give me. I have had so much fun writing this story and it makes the experience so much greater knowing you guys like it! You've all been so patient as this story may have had some tedious or even cheesy parts but stuck with it anyway! But don't worry, I am learning as I go and I'm trying to better my writing style and the story line. If you haven't done so already, I would like it very much if you left a review or comment; they keep me going and motivated to continue to write! Thanks again! :) I do not own anything of Ubisoft - characters/content/scenes/events_

* * *

_Becoming the Victor_

_Massachusetts Wilderness: January 1774_

The Massachusetts wilderness stood silently in the darkness. The sky was clear and the moon was half full, bathing the green valley before the great mountains in a white light. A chilling breeze blew through the wild brush and upon the face of the mountains, filling the air with a biting cold. Giant trees that made up the forests were motionless as their green needles caressed gently against the wind. Animals such as deer poked about the corners of dense bushes, ears sensitive the sounds of any oncoming danger. All was tranquil until a man clad in white robes ran through the scene.

Connor followed the snow laden path before him. Horse hoof prints lay apparent in the snow, guiding his way to find his destination. He put his head down as he ran, focused on reaching Emma as fast as he could. He clenched his teeth at the thought of her. Frustration built up inside him as he reflected her stubbornness and selfishness towards him. Why had she ran from him again? All he did was take care of her after she was cruelly beaten and she repays him by betraying his trust. Had he shown her so much hostility as to the notion of danger became evident to her? He didn't believe so.

Or at least he didn't hope so. This girl had been injured because of him and the least he could do for her was to have her seek medical attention. Losing her from his grasp didn't contribute to that plan at all. It made things worse, as she herself seemed to make things worse. Why was she so persistent in her ways? It would be easier to look after her if she cooperated even at all with him. She always pushed the boundaries he made; she lived by her own rules whether he liked it or not.

The sound of drums rolled in the distance. Connor stopped in his place and listened as the sound came closer. He knew instantly what it was, as the same noise echoed along the streets of Boston when soldier troupes patrolled the city. He looked around him urgently, seeking a place to hide himself. He soon spotted a fallen tree that leaned against a thick branch from another standing tree. He ran over to it quickly and scaled the fallen trunk before hopping onto the hanging branch. His buckskin boots stepped lightly upon the branch as he reached it's end and hopped gracefully onto another branch nearby. He then reached the trunk that the branch he now stood upon belonged to and slipped his body past it as his foot reached the other side of it. Another branch limbed out and he silently perched on it, watching the road below.

A group of scarlet approached the scene in an orderly fashion. Connor observed that there were seven men in the group, not unusual from the Boston troupes. He rested silently as he peered into their conversation.

"Hey Cap'n, what did that wench say he looked like?"

Another soldier interrupted, "Who, the savage on a horse?"

Connor's ears perked with interest.

"Yea, her. What she say her_ friend _looked like?"

"A native in white robes apparently," the leader responded. "He's supposed to be around here somewhere."

_"She told them about me?"_ Connor thought to himself. _"Willingly gave me away?"_

"And he's skilled apparently," jeered the first soldier. "Probably shown her a lot of tricks, eh?" he nudged the soldier next to him.

"Lovers' quarrel, I reckon," added another, "He didn't like what she gave 'im and he beat her for it."

Connor glared in contempt at the flippant men. He slowly reached for his rope dart, contemplating the idea of silencing the soldiers and their crude ideas. Hesitation stayed at his hand as he realized that they knew where she was and he needed to ask. He clenched his teeth at the thought as he felt more enticed to punish the soldiers for their vulgar accusations. But then again, he was never one for interrogation and he figured the soldiers wouldn't be either. If they wouldn't cooperate, he'd have to fight. And if he encountered them, their duration wouldn't be guaranteed to continue anyways. He decided.

In an instant, he flashed out the rope dart from his belt and cast it upon one of the soldiers. It tightened around his neck and when it did, Connor flung himself towards the ground, having the rope wrap around the branch he stood on previously as he held it in his hands. As he went down, his victim shot upwards, hanging mercilessly by the neck. The sight of this alarmed the rest of the company and they prepared to fight. Soon a musket came at Connor's head but he stepped out of the way and lodged the tomahawk in the man's back. For the next man that came at him, he swung his weapon straight forward, slicing him in the chest. Then a musket came at him broadside. He seized it in his hands and forced the butt of the rifle to hit the soldier carrying it, knocking him out. From behind him, a soldier stabbed him with the bayonet. He cried in pain before turning and leaping upon the soldier and repeatedly hacking into his core. At the sound of running feet approaching from behind, he sealed the same fate on the soldier behind him. Then he found a soldier standing a few paces away, holding onto his rifle nervously. Connor smirked at him before pulling out his bowstring swiftly and shot an arrow at his head. He then turned to the captain.

The leader raised his head in defiance as he held a long sword in his hands. He spread his legs into a broad stance. He and Connor locked eyes on each other, waiting for either to react. Connor then pulled out another rope dart and threw it at the captain's feet. The rope caught onto his ankle and Connor yanked it hard towards himself, dragging the man up to him. When the captain reached Connor, he stared fearfully up at the native's death glare and felt a cold hidden blade held at his neck.

"Where is she?" Connor asked gravely.

"We passed her not five minutes ago," the captain replied quickly. "She said she needed our help, she was badly beaten."

"I did not harm her," Connor spat while holding him by the collar of his coat. "I saved her but she feared me and ran away. She does not know these lands and I am her only chance to help her so you are going to tell me where she is headed."

"She didn't say," the captain replied sincerely, "we saw her coming over the plateau down the ways there." He glanced over Connor's side. "She does not wish for your company, sir."

Connor stared in to the captain's wide eyes with spite, taking in his words. He then gritted his teeth together in frustration and threw the captain's head into the ground before running back up the trail. He ran full speed towards the plateau.

* * *

Emma slowed her horse to an easy trot. The night was still young and nevertheless cold as she observed the world around her. Though she had traveled across a plateau, it was still dense with forest and surrounded by the feet of the mountains. The isolation and silence soothed her from her previous fit of fear and anxiety. She was sure Connor was far behind her and would take some time to catch up to her. As she calmed herself, she started to feel the pain thriving inside again. When she ran from Connor, her muscles went numb under the fear and adrenaline. Now she began to feel it pulsate in every sinew she had. She looked down at her legs, which spread over the saddle she rode on. They were sore begin with but now they had been stretched, strained, and tensed because of her midnight ride and she knew that they would be much worse in the morning. She let out a sigh at the thought.

_"Morning."_ She knew well enough that the pain wouldn't let her carry on much further into the night. She had to find a place to rest her poor body, before she would collapse. Her eyes searched the area for any sign of refuge. However, all she saw were great thick trees and scattered boulders. She began to feel hopeless towards her search. Surely there had to be something.

She looked into the gloom of the forest beside the trail. It was dark in there, as the crowns of the firs obscured the moonlight from coming down. She began to feel uneasy as she pondered what kind of creatures could lurk in these lonely parts of the world. Her eyes widened in alert in anticipation of greeting any sign of them. She nudged her horse to trot faster across the path, and farther away from the skirt of the forest. As they moved along, she tried to take one last good look deep within the darkness to seek some sort of shelter. None came avail. Defeated, she started a steady trot back up the trail.

Just as the horse began it's trot, something white caught her left eye. She frantically spun her head towards the color, as it alarmingly reminded her of Connor. A sigh of relief came from her lips when she realized what she had seen. A cave entrance protruded in the moonlight, a dark hole encased in stone that gleamed like marble in the moonlight. She didn't realize that she was only looking on one side of the road. She patted her horse's neck as she smiled, "There we go. We've found our place."

After a slow trudging through the deep snow, Emma was reluctant to enter the cave. But she also knew that she had two choices: the first being to keep going until she could find some place to sleep in and prolong her excruciating pain; or choose the second, take refuge in the cave and rest for the night. This was also a place she could hide from Connor, as he must have still been on her trail. She took in a deep breath and urged her horse in.

The first few paces of the cave were covered in darkness. Emma could make out that the floor consisted of a hard stone lined with scattered pebbles as the sound of the horse's hooves made evident. It also felt nice to be shielded from the blustering winter wind, even though the cave shared the same cold air. A sense of relief came to her as she proceeded further. Moonlight poured in from a small hole in the cave ceiling, lighting the whole space in a familiar light. She was glad to see that the cave bore no current residences and was rather small. A sparse community of bushes gathered at the back end of the cave and some cut logs lay idly along the floor. Directly beneath the skylight rested a circle of long neglected ashes. She observed that people had stayed here before.

She guided her horse towards the center of the cave before slowly removing herself from the saddle. Pain of incredible potency shot through her legs as she swung them over and lowered herself to the ground. As she placed her feet down, she found that she nearly fell. Her hands held tightly to the saddle as she experimented with her balance. After a few moments, she gained it and started to unclip the bags that hung on the saddle. She had taken everything of Connors: knives, dried meat, water sacks, and ammo. She smiled at the observation, feeling as it was some kind of revenge she could finally taste with him. After setting all of the bags down by the firepit, she removed the saddle from the horse. It shook afterward, feeling relief from the heavy weight casted upon it. Emma slowly lowered herself with the help of the logs sitting around the firepit. She sat up against the bags and stared at the walls of her cave. How long would this place last as her sanctuary? Would Connor miss it just as she nearly did?

She let out a deep breath as her soreness grew heavy upon her. Her body was coaxed into a horizontal position at the thought. The ground was cold and hard beneath her, but it felt good to let her muscles stretch and rest. Her horse idly walked around the cave, unsure of what to do. The last thing she heard before drifting asleep would be sound of those wandering hooves.

* * *

Emma greeted the dawn with a sharp exhale. Her eyes shot wide open to greet the back wall, dimly lit by the early morning's periwinkle light. She could feel that her sore muscles had stiffened by the cold and the pain earned from the previous night. Every limb and joint ached with such intensity that she could barely feel them. She placed her hands flat on the ground as she tried to raise herself up, shooting a sharp pain running up her core. She groaned in agony at the sensation and closed her eyes. After a deep breath, she started to sense a foreign presence.

She looked to her left and saw her suspected perception unfold into reality. There on a log across the firepit, sat Connor, elbows on his knees, hands locked together, and his eyes staring straight into hers. Emma flinched violently, backing herself towards the wall in unbelief at the sight before her. A chill went down her spine while heat seemed to accumulate in her face. Her ashen eyes pierced with hostility behind a curtain of dark tresses and her mouth straightened, exposing gritted teeth. She breathed shallowly.

"Good morning." Connor said with a sly grin. "Get enough rest?"

"How did you find me?" Emma snapped. "You weren't supposed to find me."

Connor's brown eyes stayed on her. "Horse tracks are easy to find in the pristine snow. Not to mention the ravaged path you left before the cave entrance."

She glowered up at him in hate. He had ruined another plan of hers, leading to the result of being in his captivity once more. The possibilities of their future together unfolded in her mind again, ripe with questioning his intentions. Emotions of fear, anger, annoyance, and frustration bubbled inside her with every oncoming thought. Could she ever lose him?

Connor sniffed before rising from his seat. At the instance, Emma reached for the nearest sack and threw her hand inside. She pulled out a dart and held it up to her ear.

"Not another step." she said sternly. "I will fight you."

Connor returned a stoic look before taking another step forward. Emma reacted swiftly by crawling backwards a few feet. She drew the dart back further behind her ear, readying a kill shot. "Don't come any closer I said! Or I will fight you."

Connor's expression furrowed with caution. "Put the dart down," he took a slow step towards her, "It is dangerous."

"Stop!" Emma shot back in urgency. "I'll kill you."

His brown eyes centered on her solemnly, genuine and curious. In her eyes he saw the mixed essence of smite and dismay. His shoulders relaxed and he raised his chin upwards. "Do you think you would win?"

Emma blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said do you think you would win?" he repeated sincerely.

She bit her lip at the challenge. Hatred emitted her face as she realized he made a good point. "I don't know," she spat. "But I'm gonna try."

Connor stared at her silently for a few moments. Never before had he seen a person, let alone a woman, cower back in deep fear because of him. He'd also never seen a person so persistent to oppose his actions. As strange as it all felt, he knew that she was still hostile and that her threats needed to be handled. He slowly took another step towards her.

Right as she saw him do so, Emma threw the dart directly at Connor. He quickly hopped to his left, nearly dodging the well aimed shot. Emma growled at her failed attempt before reaching into the bag again. As he took steps closer, she picked up the darts inside and threw them continuously at him. Connor dodged every single shot effortlessly, navigating towards her in smooth strides. Frustrated, Emma tried throwing with even more force but came to find that her attempts for success didn't prevail. Soon enough, Connor's eyes hardened and he approached her vulnerable form. She tried to throw one last dart, placing it behind her ear but her hand was soon caught by his strong grasp. He locked both of her wrists in his hands, stopping her throwing. Emma squealed and kicked violently in protest as he lowered her torso onto the ground. She managed to kick him square in the stomach, causing him to urge her wrists down against her sides onto the ground. His body pinned her down, adding great weight upon her achy abdomen. She grimaced at the sensation before staring up at Connor's eyes.

"Let me go!" She snarled. "Just get off, you're hurting me!"

"I'm sorry but I have to restrain you!" he shot back. "I would not have had to if you listened!"

Emma continued to squirm as she spoke, "Oh if I listened? And what, just let you take me against my own will?"

"I am trying to help you!" Connor struggled with her persistence.

"Yeah real help you've been!" Emma managed a light laugh. "With all of this running and fighting and kidnapping!"

Connor growled in frustration. "Things would have been different if you had cooperated with me!"

"Oh of course!" Emma mocked. "I'd love to enter a cave with you in the dark of the night in the middle of nowhere! Yeah, go inside with a man who's tried to kill me for the past month, that sounds perfectly safe to me! Now that I think about it I should have-"

Connor placed a gloved hand over her mouth. She looked at him incredulously with furrowed eyebrows. He lowered his face closer to hers and signaled her to remain silent with his lips. His brown eyes looked toward the cave wall as he listened.

A steady roll of drums beat in the distance. They were getting louder, signaling their oncoming approach. Both Emma and Connor knew immediately that a British troupe had arrived in the area. Emma's eyes glinted with hope as she realized that they could rescue her. She tried to let out a muffled scream. Connor pressed his palm harder on her lips and curved his fingertips into her skin. She stopped promptly but held a deathly glare on his eyes. He ignored her and continued to listen.

A faint voice could be heard from the troupe. "He can't be far from here. The cold ought to have slowed him down."

Another piped up. "You're an idiot Wells. This man killed an entire company in the moonlight before running off. He's probably long gone."

Emma's eyes widened at their words. The poor men that offered their help to her..

Connor glanced at her before quickly looking back up, confirming his guilt.

"You're probably right. Still have to listen to the captain though. Look everywhere for any sign.."

Their voices and drum rolls started to fade away. Connor's face relaxed at the realization before he looked back to Emma. Her eyes were fixed in a venomous stare, locking with his cool brown eyes. He had expected no less from her but felt the sting of distrust. He let off his hand over her mouth.

"You killed them?" Emma asked immediately. "All of those men who were just-"

"Looking for me?" Connor finished for her. "You actually sent them after me. To end my life."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Uh, yes. How can you possibly think I can trust you after everything we've gone through? Of course I wanted them to kill you. Then I would be home, and not here wrestling in a cold cave with a mass murderer-"

"I am no murderer."

Connor stared down into Emma's eyes. She searched his gaze, looking for reasoning behind his words. Everything she had seen from him proved otherwise from his statement but his eyes supported his claim. Anger formed upon his face but as Emma looked closely, she thought she could see pain in the lines of his face, as if he were offended. He sighed before speaking again.

"Listen to me," he started slowly, "I know you hate me but I need you understand this. I am not the enemy; I am trying to help you by taking you a place I know is safe. There you will get a chance to heal and I will get to prepare for my next mission."

Emma listened silently under his gaze.

"You can not go home now because of the scene we left in Boston." he continued sternly. "If you go now, your cover will be ruined and so will mine and I will not allow that to happen."

She turned her head to the side and swallowed painfully at the thought of home.

"After you are healed and time has passed, you will be free to go home. But as for now you are going to have to cooperate with me and stay. You can not be running off or fighting me anymore. Can you promise me that?"

Emma looked back solemnly at him. She observed a depth to his eyes that she hadn't noticed before. Their brown color was now a soft ember, shrouding hints of conviction and mystery. A sense of self assurance beamed from his gaze and Emma even thought to see some kindness in the golden flecks. She felt oddly drawn to them.

"Can you promise me that?" Connor asked more grimly.

Emma snapped back into reality. "Yes. I promise."

He lightened his gaze."Good. Now let us go before we run into more soldiers."

Emma stepped out of the cave. She greeted the brisk mountain air with a deep breath. It was early morning, the sun just brimming over the tops of the green trees. The sky was painted a coral pink, tinged with orange and cloudy blues. The smell of pines was heavy in the air and the snow twinkled in the oncoming sunlight. She looked to the west and saw great mountains sparkle in their stead. Below them stood the path she and Connor came from, winding fore long into the woodsy landscape. The thought of home called to her and she even leaned in it's direction. She stared down it before moving her foot towards the direction. But soon she was stopped.

Emma jumped as she felt her arms get thrown behind her back. A set of thick cords wrapped around her wrists quickly. She turned her head over her shoulder and saw Connor initiating the action. "What are you doing?"

"Securing your promise," he responded coolly. "Just one step out of the cave and you try to run."

"I wasn't gonna run away." Emma shot back. "I was just looking-"

"and leaning towards and taking a step forward to run away." he said with annoyance. "Now I have to restrain you again."

Emma rolled her eyes and scoffed at his words. She couldn't believe his persistence for control. She let out a defeated sigh before letting him place her side saddle on the horse again. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw him take more rope out of a sack.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Connor ignored her and started to tie a sturdy knot upon the front of the saddle. He then led the rest of the rope to wrap around Emma's waist.

She gaped in shock. "Are you tying me to the horse?"

He lifted his eyes in confirmation as he tied the end of the rope into a knot. His mouth straightened as he concentrated on his task. Emma frowned with disapproval at his distrust. She kept cold eyes on him as he worked, trying to place a weight of contempt upon him. He still remained oblivious to her stare even as he finished. He walked away and finished tying supply sacks onto the saddle. Before long, they were off again.

As they walked along the beautiful morning scenery, Emma kept a hostile gaze upon him. Now she just wanted to taunt him, make him feel uncomfortable around her. It was the only kind of revenge she was capable of doing.

She sat up straight with the help of her saddle belt. Her hands were still tied behind her back but she still faced him, capable of body language. She bent her head down slightly and hardened her expression. Her eyes stared coldly at him beneath angered brows as her mouth straightened into a hard line. She intended to bore her expression into him.

Connor noticed, with a quick glance from the corner of his eye. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck as he walked along, trying to ignore her glower. She continued to gaze at him, hoping it would make him squirm. After a few moments she realized it was working as he made more frequent side glances and cleared his throat. She threw a sly grin at him, knowing she was succeeding. Before long, Connor faced her entirely.

"Stop that." He said rigidly.

"I can't." Emma responded. "I'm facing your direction, you did place me that way after all."

"Well you do not have to stare in contempt." He replied hotly. "I know what you are trying to do."

"So you admit that I'm winning?" she grinned smugly.

"Is this all a game to you?" he asked bitterly. "Are you so stubborn as to make everything a competition?"

"Might as well make it so," she replied pleasantly. "It's what life is. And it's a good way to see a person's worth."

"Like your own?" he grimaced.

"Yes, actually. Always feels great to be the victor."

"And yet you sit here tied up on a saddle."

Emma was taken aback by his comment. Her face softened into confusion and she silenced herself. Connor twitched his mouth upwards and gave her a longer side glance. She then mused at the scene with a smirk.

"Hm. Speaking of which, I most certainly hope you don't perform personal engagements like this."

Connor casted a stoic look as he continued to face forward. "What do you mean?"

"You know, occasions when you might take a lady friend out or something," she looked towards the scene to her left, "Strap 'em to a horse and send 'em into the cold mountains."

"I do not fret with such things," he responded gruffly. "I do not currently seek any companionship. My focus is on a greater mission that I am called for."

"And what mission is that?" Emma looked back to him. "playing rogue soldier?"

Connor stopped in his tracks. He continued to face forward, gazing callously ahead. Emma slightly regretted her persistence, as she didn't want to press him into putting more physical restraints on her. She eyed his body, anticipating his next move.

He soon turned and looked her in the eyes. "No. My mission is to be the victor."

Emma's expression softened as she searched his face. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion and curiosity. What did he mean? Such a mystery was carried by this man: where he came from, what he feels, and where he is going. He was so good at hiding behind his secrets at the while speaking truthfully and maintaining focus to his goals. His eyes showed this kind of composure in every expression and Emma found herself sincerely intrigued. Would she ever get the chance to learn the answers?

She soon caught herself in mid thought and snapped back to reality. Her eyes unlatched from his and looked downward before she nodded in response to him. He swiftly retook a rope that he led the horse with and walked forward again. Emma exhaled and looked at the nature around her. The morning was bright, having the sun nearing the center of the sky. The golden light shone through the gaps of the trees and the snow nearly blinded her by it's reflected sparkle. The air was cold but surely fresh with the scent of pine.

A great bird suddenly came into view from the direction they came from. Emma watched it in awe as it flew with wings fully spread, swiftly overhead. She followed it as it went before them, watching carefully before seeing it unexpectedly dip downward into disappearance. Emma looked closely and saw that their path was reaching an end, approaching a cliff. A great valley filled with trees lay beyond, snow laden and vast. More mountains skirted the valley's edges, adding a depth to it's appearance. The sight took her breath away and caused her mouth droop in awe. Connor halted the horse as he looked onto the view. He breathed in deeply before turning to Emma. "We are nearing our destination. The journey should not take more than three hours."

Emma sighed deeply. The journey had been rough so far but she felt a sense of confidence from its coming end. She had to, she realized, because she didn't have another choice. She agreed to take up Connor's offer of safety and healing for the sake of his and her confidentialities. Emma lingered on that thought. If anything, the two of them had well guarded identities and highly valued secrets. She was sure that they would both fight to keep their mysteries unknown and even progress their lives by doing so. The conclusion of their current situation was so unclear, but Emma predicted and maybe even knew,that it would be those secrets in which would become her greatest ally.


	8. Chapter 10

A good one? Its where things start to heat up. Please enjoy! comment, follow. I own nothing of Ubisoft - content/character/scenes/events

* * *

_Unwanted Affection_

_Massachusetts Wilderness: January 1774_

Connor knew very little when it came to women.

His life had shown few occasions involving them and even fewer times regarding personal relationships. He had his mother, who loved and raised him earnestly but her presence would be short-lived. He also had his grandmother, the Clan Mother of his tribe, but her words mainly involved wisdom and instruction towards his sacred mission. After his childhood passed, he had ran into some women whilst upon his side missions, usually rescuing them from danger or ignoring their flirtatious stunts. The women that lived at the Homestead were either already married or older than him. However no firm relationships formed out of these encounters. He simply found that obtaining such relations was irrelevant to his overall mission, therefore none came to be.

But there was this woman; the one a few feet away. She would be the only one in which he would have interacted with the longest, and as more time passed between them, the more he realized how raw his inexperience was. Normally his interactions with any woman lasted only a few minutes at a time, and it would regard an impersonal task they needed him to help them with. Now he was with one that had stuck around for days and tried to do everything in her power to resist his help. He grew more uncertain with what to do with her, for personal and long term interaction with women was completely foreign from his life and the concept alone eluded him. She was no exception.

He glanced towards her behind his shoulder. She was sitting upon the saddle, restrained by ropes with her head down. He sighed to himself at the thought of their history together. She had been nothing but a pain in his side ever since they first "met." He'd been kicked, ran from, hit, reported, screamed at, threatened, and nearly stabbed to death by darts by this woman. Never before had he been so frustrated and annoyed at a single person for their persistence to not comply with him. He grit his teeth in anger as he faced forward again. Why couldn't she understand that he just trying to help her? She had to willingly fight him at every chance to stay out of his grasp and was the only one that did so. She reported him to British guards, destroyed a marketplace to distract him, and even pushed him into a freezing harbor! She ran off with his horse and supplies, turned a table onto him at a tavern, and even-

Kissed him. His face froze at the thought. It was his first one nonetheless but at the time he thought that she was a man and also a Templar spy so the experience was far worth cherishing in his mind. His cheeks flushed at the thought of such an intimate interaction. Gratitude filled him at the fact that she couldn't see him, she'd definitely have something to say.

He glanced back to her again. Her grey eyes wandered the scene around them and her hair blew gently around her tanned face. He studied her. She was a fair woman, maybe even beautiful. Her dark tresses and beige skin reminded him of the women in his village and brought a sense of home to him. Her eyes were wide and illuminated under the bright sun upon a face prominently structured. His eyes fell to her neck, slender and graceful-

He shook his head and looked forward again. He couldn't let this woman distract him from their mission, let alone distract him from who she really was. She was stubborn, hostile, and even dangerous. In her mind existed no intentions for friendship and she had made that very clear. She tried to have him killed! He scoffed aloud at himself; no affection would be reserved for her.

The two travelers were well an hour into the final stage of their journey. They had been silent since the start of their descent, perhaps occupied with thoughts pertaining to the past. The weather was no distraction, as the bluebird sky was clear above them and the wind merely whispered past. The trail downward wasn't a hardship either as it wound down the mountainside with only few patches of ice and loose rocks upon it. Snow was still very much evident as it blanketed the ground and dressed the firs skirting around them. Despite the isolation and vastness of their location, today the wilderness was tame. A smooth course looked promising for the rest of the way.

Emma lifted her eyes to Connor. He had gone before the horse, leading the way through the wild terrain. She observed how concentrated he was on this task, allowing nothing to distract his fore long trek. He took wide strides as he led the horse forward. In fact, he kept up a consistent hasty pace ever since they left. Emma had to admit that he had a greater sense of endurance than most as he seemed to never grow tired as he walked.

"Walking," Emma mourned to herself. How long would it be until she could walk like she normally did? It had always been something she loved in life, the movement of feet. Walking and running let her express her boyish freedom on the streets and docks of Boston. Wearing pants contributed to that freedom, as it licensed her to be able to move freely without worrying about how graceful or collective she looked. However, given her current situation, she might as well have worn a dress. Connor didn't allow her to touch the ground, let alone move freely upon the saddle. There he had to tie her like she was some sort of wild animal and she hated him for that.

An annoyed groan came from her mouth, louder than she intended it to. Connor heard it, and turned his head slightly over his shoulder. "Is something wrong?"

Emma was surprised he talked. "No. I was just thinking."

Connor faced forward again. No response came from him at her statement and she found that curious. He wasn't much for follow up questions, she observed, let alone getting to know people on a personal level. Well, maybe if they had stupid lists with people's names on them. Either way, this was different for Emma, as she was used to working alongside men who acted more colorful towards their tasks. Work on a ship, docked or at sea, gave most men a reason to curse, whine, and complain. Left and right she'd get an earful of these men's problems. She never knew why though, as she tended to keep to herself. Perhaps giving them an invitation to listen allowed them to do so.

Connor was practical; not interested in the extra details. She could appreciate that as for once in her life as she could deal with someone who simply wanted to get the task done. She had always been like that as well but never experienced it from another person. It was refreshing to feel but the longer Emma thought about it, it also felt rather annoying. He was stubborn to begin with, she learned quickly with her experience with him, but now he was so impersonal that his demands seemed unfair. She looked to him again.

"I was just thinking," Emma repeated, "how nice it would be to have my hands free."

Connor didn't turn back to her. "I am not untying you."

"Oh, come on," Emma whined, "Do you honestly think that I'm gonna run away now?

"No," he returned sincerely. "But you have already betrayed my trust and have shown to be unpredictable. I will not risk any more chances."

She let out a sigh of frustration. "Do you always hold grudges against people?"

"No. Only to those who have wronged me and have not paid their debt."

Emma looked to the back of his head. "You're saying that I owe you?"

"You owe me many things," he stopped walking down the trail and went up to face her, "Some apologies, gratitude, and your trust."

Her eyes glared hotly down at him. She couldn't believe his words. No where in the near future did she see herself giving any apologies or thanks to him. Trusting him wasn't even in the picture.

Connor halted the horse before turning around. She watched as he walked over to the bags that hung from the saddle. He pulled out a sack made from animal hide before taking a drink and then asking her indirectly, "Thirsty?"

"No." Emma lied. "I'm fine."

Connor raised an eyebrow. He mused at her response, knowing perfectly well she felt otherwise. It had been a long time since she drank or ate anything. "Suit yourself."

Emma continued to glare as he walked away. Anger replaced her basic needs and she didn't quite appreciate that. The fact was that she hadn't consumed anything since the two left the cabin a day ago. Given the events that happened since then she was either too cold or too scared to consider sustaining herself. But as she thought about it, the more she realized the depraved condition of her body. She was hungry, thirsty, and tired. Her bruises on her wrists didn't look like they were progressing into healing and her body certainly didn't ache and throb any less. Hopefully this place offered a good medical clinic, and it would come up soon.

For the next hour Emma dwelt her thoughts on her physical condition. Her eyes grew heavy, her stomach felt hollow, and her skin shivered under her not-so-thick coat. Whenever Connor looked back, she made herself sit still and up straight, forbidding any sign of weakness. Stubbornness was indeed a virtue she mastered in life, and it was the only weapon left she could use to resist her current situation. Unfortunately for her, it wouldn't inflict much damage upon her opponent. At the realization, she closed her eyes in defeat and listened to the horse hooves clop against the ground. Soon the slight swaying motion of her ride lured her into a light sleep, bringing relief on her weary eyelids.

A husky voice sounded in her ears. Her eyes shot open awake, surprised at the fact that she had fallen asleep. Connor was staring up at her, looking with concern.

"What is it?" she asked frantically. "What's wrong?"

"Soldiers are coming through here. We need to get off the trail and head into the woods."

Emma looked down the path before them. She was able to see a concealed bend in the near distance but saw no one coming from behind it. "How do you know-"

"We must leave now." Connor said urgently. "They are approaching quickly." He started to reach for the horse's leading rope.

"No." Emma resisted. "Untie my hands first."

Connor's eyes furrowed in unbelief. "Is this a joke to you? We need to go now."

"No." Emma pressed again. "Untie my hands and I won't scream for help."

This was the part of Emma Connor despised the most. His eyes shifted with uneasiness as he gazed upon her face. Her eyes assured her demand unwaveringly before grey induced hollows. Red was painted upon her cheeks and her lips were chapped. The seriousness of her condition didn't appear to him until now. He then looked down the path, deciding what to do. With a groan of frustration and clenching of his teeth, he walked over to behind her and loosened the cords wrapped around her wrists.

"Thank you." Emma said while rubbing her frozen wrists. "That feels much-"

Connor tugged the rope on the horse forward with urgency. He marched right through the snow, setting a path straight for a nest of boulders. After wavering around some trees, Emma looked to the path they left behind and saw a band of redcoats appear from beyond the bend. The sound of their drums rang loudly as they marched and their leader looked all around him thoroughly. Soon the horse, Emma, and Connor were out of view behind the formation of boulders, listening the drums roll pass them.

"There's quite a few out here," Emma observed with a whisper. "Persistent too."

"They are all out looking for me thanks to you," Connor shot at her. "And they will not give up so easily."

Emma faced him."Hey I'm not the one that went on a killing spree. They _should_ be looking for you."

Connor gave her a deathly side glance. She ignored it and looked past the boulder's edge. The ban of redcoats were disappearing up into the woodsy ascent Emma and Connor had just came from. She let out a sigh.

"We can use this detour as a shortcut," Connor started again. "We will continue straight into these woods until we approach another cliffside clearing. Then the journey is nearly complete."

Emma looked to the path ahead as she rubbed the depressions on her skin made from the constricting cords. They were deep in the woods, surrounded by enormous trees and occasional boulders. Perhaps this change of scenery would be nice.

"Let's go."

The two travelers wandered along a relatively straight path in the woods. It had been a quiet trip, Emma observed, and a colder one too as the sun's direct rays became obscured by the trees. She hated being without the sun's precious heat, and it only added to her progressing miserable condition. But the change of scene was nice, as she got to hear more distinctive bird songs and catch a glimpse of a fleeing deer. Connor seemed alright, as he knew how to navigate the wilderness with little difficulty. He did however, glance back to her more frequently than before, making sure she didn't have any escape plans. At this point, she couldn't bear the thought of any because of her pain.

It would be about a half an hour later when they reached the clearing Connor had promised. It opened onto their old dirt path, which itself halted into another cliff edge. Connor led the horse as he stepped upon the trail and looked out into the view before them. It was another valley, the very same one they had looked out into a few hours earlier. However, the sea of snow laden trees were closer, as the travelers themselves were about four hundred meters above the valley's ground. Emma could also see a few rooftops of some structures poking out of the trees. She let out a relieved sigh, as she realized that they were close to her destination.

Suddenly a brisk breeze from the west rushed through them. It was cold and fierce, and Emma shuddered under its fury upon the horse. She looked westwards and saw an incoming sea of clouds, hovering ominously over the mountains with patches of grey. Large white streaks of moisture and fog loomed beneath the storm's underside, indicating a certain wrath. It was approaching rather quickly, adding a slight sense of nervousness to Emma as she preferred to not get caught in a winter storm on this journey. At least they were close.

The trail descended narrowly down the cliff's right side. Connor treaded it lightly, carefully guiding the horse through the steepness. Emma was protected from any danger of falling off, thanks to her belt Connor tied around her. But she was growing ill, tired, and burdened with pain from all over her body. She was also starting to feel her legs and bottom turn numb from sitting for so long. Not to mention the freezing wind that seemed to chill her bones. She placed her hands on her biceps, embracing herself while holding her breath against the strong current. She wanted so badly to be out of the elements and in a warm building. Her eyes looked around her and saw that wouldn't happen quite yet.

After what seemed like an eternity, they had reached the bottom of the mountain. The valley lay before them now, covered in snow and graced with pine trees. The dirt path continued ahead of them, winding along the small hilly contours on the forest floor and leading to the wooden structures that stood nearby. Emma couldn't see too far ahead however, as the fog rolled in between the trees and concealed faraway things. The wind was starting to blow even harder and Emma grimaced at the sensation of falling snow upon her face. At the realization of the incoming storm, Connor quickened his own and the horse's pace.

They jogged along the trail, fighting against the westerly wind. They soon crossed over a long wooden bridge that rested over a frozen creek. Only after that did Emma notice a small community of buildings. On both sides of the trail stood buildings, large and small; log cabins containing nearby crafting stations and large lightly painted structures with wide yards. Emma noticed how barely anyone was outside, unless they were urging their animals into barns or closing the shutters on windows. Before long, she felt the horse stop.

She looked to Connor, who had released the rope and started to run over to a woman who was waving her arms in the air. She seemed to have difficulty with placing her hogs into a shelter. Emma put her head down in frustration at the notion. Why did they have to stop now? They were so close. Not being able to tend to any of her discomforts properly, she decided to relieve her numbness in her lower half. She untied herself from her belt and slowly slid off the saddle. An audible shudder exited her mouth as she stepped onto the ground. The soreness seemed to tear through her muscles and a slight heat circulated through them. She held onto the saddle with a tight embrace as she closed her eyes, bearing through the pain. This was probably not a good idea.

"Hello?"

Emma spun her head to behind her to seek the source of the small voice. Her eyes laid upon a small boy dressed in thick furs. He looked up at her with big green eyes beneath a head of brown hair. His skin was very fair and but a great maroon colored spot adorned nearly the entire right side of his face. She looked at him questioningly. "Hello."

"Hi," he said politely. "My name is Kale. What's yours?"

She tried to control her shivering as she spoke."Do you need something?"

"No," the boy replied cheerfully. "I just wanted to say hi. You new here?"

"I'm Connor's friend," she said callously. "He's taking me to see a doctor."

Kale looked at her with a concerned face. "Doctor Lyle isn't here. He works in the clinic across the street but he's in New York now."

Emma looked at the building across the street. It was large and painted a faint green. The windows were completely dark and no lanterns lay about. She feared the boy was right.

She turned back to him mournfully. "Is he the only doctor here?"

"Yeah, but Connor is good at taking care of people. He took care of us before Doctor Lyle came here."

Emma turned away and groaned hopelessly. After all of this way, the medical aide she longed for would remain out of reach. What was she to do now? Find a family to stay with or keep traveling in this horrid weather? She started to mutter her thoughts aloud.

Kale stared at her blood stained shirt and coat."What happened to you? Did you get hurt?"

"She is badly injured," Connor approached them. "I need to take her to see Doctor Lyle."

The boy looked up in worry before tugging on Connor's robes. "But Doctor Lyle isn't here. He's in New York."

"New York?" Connor said unpleasantly surprised. "Since when?"

"Yesterday morning."

Connor looked up at the empty clinic across the street. Emma could see distress paint over his eyes as the information set in. Apparently he didn't know what to do either. He soon turned to the boy again.

"Kale, go back inside with your family. The storm is coming in and you need to be inside."

"But what are you gonna do with Emma?" the boy asked anxiously.

Connor thought to himself for a moment. Emma was clearly in pain and maybe even sick. He had promised her safety and healing but it looked unlikely to happen without a doctor. He looked to Emma. "I will take her home."

Before Emma could digest his words, Connor placed his hands around her waist and lifted her upon the saddle once more. This time she was straddling the saddle instead of riding with both legs on one side. Pain ran through her legs at the urgency of this motion but she held in her cry of dismay. Surprise soon filled her as she felt Connor get on the saddle behind her. Blood rushed to her face at the sensation of feeling his chest against her back. His arms wrapped around her as he reached for the reigns. He urged the horse to a trot.

Emma didn't like this close proximity. It was awkward as to how personally invasive it felt and also discomforting due to the fact that she despised this man and all the trouble he caused her. Yet, despite her disliking, she had to admit that he was warm, and that felt better than the freezing cold that had been biting her since the beginning of this journey. She remained to sit there tensely, however, anticipating the end of this ride.

After two hundred meters or so, they approached a large house. Emma thought it looked more like a mansion though, as it stood broad and grand upon a large set of property. It was made of brick and composed of two stories. Its features were symmetrical, having white shuttered windows, small dormers along the black roof, and white pillars standing on either side of the front door. Emma was amazed by its mixture of grandeur and simplicity and was even more amazed that Connor had lived here. He halted the horse in front of large stone steps.

"This is your home?" Emma asked with a shudder.

"I live here with an old man." Connor replied as he got off the horse. "It is his home."

"Hm."

Before she could give a decent reply, Emma felt her body lift off of the horse. She soon felt herself being cradled in Connor's arms. Her face flushed again as he briskly walked her over the steps towards the house.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Taking you inside."

He turned the door knob beneath her and let it swing wide open. Instantly the smell of must and pine entered Emma's nose. It was also warm in there. Connor's footsteps were loud upon the squeaky floorboards, merely announcing his arrival. As he turned around to close the door with his foot. Emma stared at the entry way. A long hall stood before them and a staircase to the right. A few paintings adorned the grey walls and a decorative white trim lined along the ceiling and the more rooms stood on opposite sides before that, having large arching entry ways instead of doors. It felt rather welcoming.

"It's about time you returned!" called a raspy voice from one of the side rooms. "I have been waiting for days for you to come back and fix the rest of this place!" Emma could hear a steady thudding as the voice came nearer. "You agreed to finish your work before running off to-"

The old man appeared from one of the two rooms, clad in a brown overcoat, white stockings, buckled shoes, and a broad square hat. His skin was dark and his hair white upon his head and face. A large jeweled amulet rested upon his chest and a wooden can rested in his hands. He stood stunned at the sight of Emma in Connor's arms.

"Who is this?"

Connor started walking towards the stairs. "This woman is injured and Doctor Lyle is not available. I will care for her in the mean time."

The old man stood back and watched the two go up the stairs in curiosity . He caught a glimpse of the woman Connor was holding and had seen that his student was right. Her face had terrible bruises and blood stained the front of her coat. He inquired of the circumstance in which brought the two together and caused injury to her. Questions will certainly be asked in the future.

Connor continued down a small hallway the stairs led directly into. Two rooms lie ahead and inbetween them stood a railing that overlooked the main entry way below. A simple bronze chandelier hung above. Connor turned into the room on the left side. To Emma, it looked like a study or library even, having two couches, multiple desks, a fireplace, and a large bookshelf. The room was colder but it was better than outside.

Connor lay Emma down upon a couch that sat against the western wall. She sighed in relief and closed her eyes at the contact of cushion against her achy limbs and core. It felt wonderful to be shielded from the wind and stretched out upon a flat surface. But before long, she felt her boots getting removed from her feet.

Her head shot upwards. "What are you doing?"

"I have to dress your wounds. Some need urgent attention as they are probably infect-"

"No." Emma looked sternly at Connor. "You are not going to undress me again."

He stopped his task. "I need to get to your wounds so I can treat them." His eyes spoke genuinely. "They have been sitting for a few days-"

"Do not touch me," Emma raised her voice. "I will do it myself if I have to but there's no way I'm letting you do this again."

Connor's face twitched in frustration. "I promise I mean no disrespect. I am trying to help you! Why can't you just allow me-"

"You've done enough!" Emma shot at him. "I don't need anything else from you."

He scowled upon her. "Why do you have to be so stubborn? All of this time I have treated you fairly and all you do is complain and fight and resist! Why can't you appreciate any kindness given to you? You are the most-"

"I can be of assistance, sir."

Connor looked to where the delicate voice came from. An older woman dressed in a plain petticoat and bonnet stood in the doorway. "I can change her sir." She piped up. "She'd be alright in my hands."

The Assassin stared at the old woman blankly. He had forgotten of the servants that worked in his home. His eyes shifted over Emma again, glinting with concern over her purpled wrists, bloodied shirt, and bruises along her neck and face. Their eyes met, his ember glazing hotly through her piercing ash. He saw how they pleaded up at him beneath brows creased with a sense of sorrow. He nodded as he faced the old woman again.

"She will be fine."

He took wide strides towards the doorway. He brushed past the old woman and leaned to close the door on his way out. As he stepped out of the room with a door knob behind him in his hand he paused and looked to Emma once more. The old woman was sitting her up on the couch gently, with Emma wincing at her pain. He looked at her with remorse, feeling guilt wash over him for her injuries. He couldn't help but feel responsibility for her condition, firstly for the attack by the captain and secondly for leading her into the harsh wilderness. Now there was no doctor to give her proper care, no licensed healer to treat her damaged limbs or soothe away her bruises. What about giving her a decent meal or some medicinal herbs? Would she be warm enough with those clothes she wore? Anxiety and concern built up inside as he shut the door closed behind him. A slow and ragged breath came out at the ongoing thoughts and escalating emotions. He blinked at the realization.

Damn.


	9. Chapter 11

_Hey people! I am so sorry for not posting anything sooner. This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. I wrote so many drafts for it and even had one that had nearly 15,000 words. A lot of things happen in this part of the story and I was going to post everything in one chapter but I thought that it would take away certain moods and subplots that I want the readers to focus on. That being said, I have another chapter following this that is nearly finished so you can expect a soon update towards that. Thank you for your patience! :)_

_Also! Thank you for your support and reviews. Always encouraging to receive those!_

* * *

_Presumptions_

_Davenport Homestead: January 1774_

He wouldn't allow his concern go to that extent.

He couldn't, it would be too inappropriate for the both of them. He refused to believe for one second that his interest in her had come down to this point. It was unprofessional, sloppy, and immature. He'd learn to control his emotions during training but the concern for the well being of this woman had reached far beyond his normal level of civilian compassion. It was deeper, and to his misfortune, progressive. He couldn't understand why either, was it due to his lack of responsibility or was it really for her?

He stopped the storm in his head. Connor knew emotion and affection were byproducts of the human experience, but he nevertheless deferred them as much as he could. There was only one mission in his life at the moment, and that was the pursuit of justice on behalf of his people. The luxuries of reserved emotion and affection towards another person were not in the means of his reach, nor desire really. He had long tasted the bitterness of injustice in his life and was eager to cease any more possible conflicts that involved his tribal family and the colonists, and he would not let anything else get in the way of that. Courtship, networking, or even friendship was purposely displaced for the time being for the sake of ending the threat that the Templars posed against himself and his people. Ever since he lost his mother as a boy and grew up witnessing how his people were mistreated, vengeance and a desire to fight stirred restlessly in his soul. At this point, his gaze was locked on hunting down the Templar leaders and ending their crusade for worldwide control.

That's what he decided when Clan Mother told him about his sacred mission, when Achilles coached and trained him into the brotherhood, and when he officially became an Assassin. It was his sole duty upon this earth to seek justice for those who didn't have a say or chance. Not a single thing could measure up to importance to him, and he blatantly pushed aside things personal and extroverted to divert his absolute attention towards his mission. Therefore, he decided that another time would come for those kind of things.

Except one kind of those things came in _this_ time. _She _was something personal and extroverted, an affair that brought great distraction to his mission. Emma was not a step closer to finding Charles Lee or defeating the Templars, she wasn't another person for Connor to merely tail and get information from or even to silence with his hidden blade. In fact, he didn't know what to do with her, he didn't even know what to consider her. An enemy, obstacle, ally? Whatever hostility she showed, Connor only knew that this woman was hurt under his authority and he was now paying his debt to her by having her receive medical aid in his home.

But his ongoing concern for her started to scare him. It was natural for Connor to take interest in the well being of others after he aided or served them, but he usually brushed off the scenario and moved along forward with the next mission. Yet this time was different. There was something about this situation in which made him feel a nearly aggravating desire to seek Emma's betterment. He longed to see her walk with ease and not be beckoned by pain.

But he also didn't want her misfortunes to torture him as they did. He hated how such strong emotions came out of this situation. Sympathy, care, and anxiety took the best of him and he tried to wrestle around them so they wouldn't blur his overall focus. But he couldn't help it! It had been hours since he brought her home and he had no idea how she was doing. The concern for her grew more intense by the hour and he itched for an update. He knew that he couldn't just walk into her room and quench his inquiries, however, their last interaction wasn't very friendly.

His eyes narrowed at the memory. He recalled her eyes gazing up at him with distrust and anger. The pain she felt was visible upon the creases on her forehead and in the lines that formed around her eyes. At that moment he knew that trust couldn't be easily attained between them, at least not from her anyway. Their history together only added to her case against him and he understood that. But there was a part of him that still misunderstood her anger, as he believed that he had as much of a right to be angry back at her, since she was rather unpleasant and annoying. In fact, she never complied with him for anything or offered any form of peace. He only gained harsh words, cold stares, and sometimes injury from being around her. She truly wasn't much closer than being an enemy to him. Only he never had this much sympathy for one, or even care.

A sigh exited his mouth. He was standing before a window in the study downstairs as he measured out these deep thoughts. The room was dark, save the glow coming from the healthy fire that danced in the fireplace. As usual the place was quiet and he enjoyed the solitude he'd been basking in for hours.

Soon enough, Connor heard steady thudding hit against the wood floor along with footsteps. He immediately knew who it was.

"There you are!" said the old man. "Hiding and moping all day. I've been looking for you since you got home!" he hobbled towards Connor in frustration. "Would you care to tell me what's going on here? Who's that girl? What did you do to her?"

Connor turned and faced the old man with heated eyes. "I did nothing to harm her...directly." He drooped his gaze. "I met her in Boston thinking she was a Templar spy possessing a list of Johnson's men."

The old man scoffed. "And so you thought to beat her senseless for it?"

"I thought she was a man!"

Connor watched the old man's face raise in shock. The native quickly caught on to his poor choice of words and shook his head. "That's not what I meant, I did not beat her," he urged reassuringly. "We got into a few chases around Boston before coming across a British military captain." He gazed into the raging fire in the fireplace near to him. "I suppose they were acquainted at one time and they were not in peaceful relations. So he beat her while his men restrained me. That's when they revealed her to me."

The old man casted a curious expression. "What was this captain's name?"

"Peace."

"His full name?"

Connor looked back to the old man and pondered. "I do not know. It was not even mentioned-"

"The girl probably knows," the old man interrupted while limping towards a chair before the fire. "When she recovers, we can ask her."

"Why does it matter?" Connor asked hotly.

"Because his name matters," the old man emphasized as he took a seat. "We've had some Templar associations in the past under the name of Peace. Their family empire was prominent in these colonies years ago but I have not heard of any occurrences involving them since."

Connor folded his arms and leaned against a wall. Curious thoughts buzzing behind his stoic face.

"Perhaps your original perception of her isn't far from the truth, Connor. Her relations to the name make her worth keeping a close eye on. She could be a threat."

"But then why would they treat her the way they did?" Connor asked.

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "Unresolved conflicts, failed missions, betrayal? If she knows him as you say she does, this could mean potential conflict. And the last thing we need is having the Templar threat take root in my own home."

Connor glanced upward to the ceiling. He thought of the weak girl that lay in the room across his own. She was frail, in great pain, and maybe even afraid. He didn't believe his mentor's accusations towards her identity. Templar spies were fierce, brutish, and very protective towards their withheld information. Even though Emma did have a knack for disguises and resisted any shred of threat posed to her, he wasn't convinced. Not entirely, anyway. She had proven to reveal surprises on their travels together, such as her speed when she ran and quick intuition when she decided to defend herself. However, no formal training seemed evident, as most Templar spies had in their qualifications. She was also rather mouthy, not calculated or minimal in her words like most spies. Still, a certain mystery clouded about her and it hinted something towards who she was. Connor noticed it in her cold stares and in the way she fought by using her words. Maybe she would be mysterious enough for the old man to be right.

"I know my presumptions are strong, but it never hurts to be too cautious," the old man placed both hands over his cane as he looked to Connor. "Watch over her but do not forget your manners, she is still a lady and nonetheless a guest. I advise you to keep your distance from her until she is more recovered. Any suspicion she may hold against us will be nonexistent and perhaps she will be more apt to discuss her business."

Connor stifled a laugh. "And how long do you suggest it will be before she is _ready_ to talk to us?"

"I'm sorry, have I amused you boy?" the old man inquired.

"It will be ages before that woman will trust me!" Connor exclaimed. "She has despised me from the beginning and I am more than certain that she will not be eager to try to make amends anytime soon."

The old man mused at the Native's words with a smile. "Any drama between your relationship with that girl is strictly your business, Connor. All I'm saying is to lay low. Perhaps some space will show her that you're worth dealing with."

Connor shot a glare to the old man. He held a stiff gaze as he watched his mentor rise from his chair and face him. "Peace, Connor. I'm afraid women are the most complex creatures and you will spend your entire life trying to figure them out." He turned and hobbled towards the exit. "And with any luck you will come as close as to finding that the possibilities are endless and there may be no single answer. Count this as your starting point!"

Connor scoffed and glanced back into the fire before exiting the starting point had long passed.

* * *

Nightfall had comfortably set over Davenport Homestead. A snow storm had been brewing ominously through the morning and then released its wrath in the early afternoon. It never stopped as the night came along. Great thick white flakes whirled aimlessly in the violent wind, creating a white blurry scene. The fog was so thick that blend into the piling snow, obscuring even the nearest trees. The darkness only added to the poor visibility and nonetheless contributed to an unforgiving chill. The homes that spread over this valley were locked, shut, and dark, protecting the families from the extreme winter conditions. Animals were safely huddled beneath stable roofs and material goods were secured into large storage units. Not a soul lingered about the outside world and all had grown completely dark..

Emma had awoken abruptly in the night. She lay upon a small yellow couch, wrapped in a fur blanket that nearly made her sweat. Her eyes widened in the dark, trying to make out her surroundings. She looked about the great space before her and made out some table legs scattered throughout and a great shelf towards the furthermost wall. She also saw four windows, two against the furthermost wall and another two on the wall to her left. Memory jogged her brain and reminded her that she was in the room what she called the library. In Connor's house.

She groaned inwardly at the thought. If she ever believed that she had once been captive to him, nothing screamed more of it until now. She was in his house, staying in one of his rooms, as his guest. No chance of escape could come her way or even an opportunity to run and hide. She couldn't even see five feet in front of her at this point! Her eyes shifted towards the windows in the room. The world outside was completely dark, having no moon to grace Emma with any lighting. She shifted uncomfortably at the thought of utter darkness, but resolved to find any source nonetheless.

Her great heavy blanket was cast aside. She started to raise herself up with the help of her palms, but she stopped and winced. The soreness in her legs and abdomen ignited at her action. A deep breath was taken in and she waited for the pain to pass with closed eyes. After it numbed down, Emma noticed a strange scent. Her head leaned down into her long hair and smelled a sort of spice in it. She remembered that she was bathed earlier that day, as well as fed and redressed by an older woman named Lillian. Her fingers felt the bindings beneath her new shirt; they were fresh and tight around her. It felt nice to be clean and to be refurbished overall. Her sleep was definitely well needed but she wondered how long she was out. What was the time as of now?

She looked over towards the door. A faint orange light illuminated beyond, signaling her chance to find a break in the darkness. She carefully stood up, feeling the loose cotton material about her submit to gravity. Both her long sleeved shirt and pants hung loosely on her, but ties had been made in the back so they would fit better. It felt strange to not have a sailor's coat hugging her flesh to a restraint, but a nice change. She took a step forward.

Her leg protested in pain and she winced again. It was probably unwise of her to do this but she needed to investigate her situation. She forced herself a few more steps before stopping again. It was astonishing to feel such sharp pain hindrance her every move; she couldn't feel any closer to paralysis. But she managed to reach the door and when she did, she listened. The wind outside pushed against the boards of the house and whistled through any cracks. There were no voices or any sounds of movement beyond the door._ "It had to be late,"_ she thought. _"Everyone's probably asleep."_

Cautiously, she reached for the cold door knob and began to twist it slowly. The metal inner workings crackled as it unlatched from the doorframe. She then held the twisted knob tightly in her hands and swung the door open swiftly in hopes of a short lived squeak. To her fortune, the hinges released what she hoped for and she stood before the hallway. A lantern rested upon a wall to her right, casting an orange pool of light around her doorway. She was just able to reach it and take it off it's stand. Her hand gripped the handle at the top as she held it out in front of her. Another door stood across the dark hallway, slightly opened and black inside. The rest of the hallway to her right stood empty and dark as well. As she limped in pathetic steps forward to further investigate, a small light caught the corner of her eye. She turned to the source and saw a golden glow from below the balcony to her left. Curiosity lured her and she found herself peering over the railing. The entry way below was dark but the light she had seen came from a room nearby. She looked onward and stared at it for a few moments before catching two shadows passing over it. The abrupt figures startled her and she swung her lantern as far behind her as she could, to keep her light out of view. Soon soft mumblings came from below and her ears twitched with eagerness. She leaned her left ear over the balcony and concentrated on deciphering the words.

At first the conversation consisted of garbled words and muffled emphasis. Emma made the two voices out to be masculine, one husky and firm, and the other raspy and collected. She first suspected Connor and then the old man as she knew they had indeed lived here. Her ear strained to catch even the slightest comprehensible word as she longed to overhear everything. It wouldn't be very long until she heard something loud and clear.

"I thought she was a man!"

Emma furrowed her brows at the phrase. It was definitely Connor's voice she heard, and it was even more obvious that he was talking about her. She continued to listen.

"...did not beat her...We..around Boston... captain."

Emma inquired at the last word. Surely he wasn't talking about-

"Peace."

Yep. The horrible man that did all of the physical damage to her. The sound of his name sent a shiver of hate and uneasiness throughout her body. She was relieved he was gone now.

The raspier of the voices started responding for a longer duration. His voice was quieter so it was harder for Emma to make out his words. She waited impatiently for a clear syllable.

"...a close eye on...She...a threat."

Emma jerked her head upright. Were the two suggesting such things about her? All of her life she knew to always look out for herself, whether by words or force, but she didn't imagine that her recent behavior would have been considered threatening, truly threatening. Didn't they recall the current condition she was in? She was feeble, injured; didn't have a chance to win any fight, as much as she'd like to think. Confusion and curiosity tore through her mind for the answer to these riddles. It was agonizing to be so close to the conversation but so far from understanding any of it. She pouted to herself.

After quite a few minutes of unidentifiable dialogue, the exchanging of voices ended and the stepping of feet commenced. Emma's eyes grew wide as one of the shadows below grew larger with approaching steps. The shadow was broad shouldered and the steps with it were swift and heavy. Panic filled her heart as she realized Connor was coming towards the stairs. She held her lantern tightly and hobbled quickly back to her door. The pain seared through her legs at the violent motion but she dreaded being seen greater than awaking more pain within her. As she pushed through her door, the sounds of feet bouncing upon creaky steps rang through her ears. Her teeth gritted as she pushed herself to move even faster. She casted the lantern upon the coffee table and she grabbed her blanket off of the floor before lunging for the couch. She wrapped herself tightly in the furs and glued her eyes shut, anticipating his nearing footsteps.

Connor leapt up the staircase swiftly. His feet soon bounced upon the landing with control. The floorboards beneath him protested quietly under his weight as he walked over towards his room. As he did, he glanced over towards the room across from his and noticed that the lantern that had been set out no longer illuminated the doorway. He paused and tilted his head in suspicion, wondering if Emma had awakened. He walked over to her room, his steps slower than the last as he approached. His eyes landed upon the wall to find the lantern completely gone. They shifted over to her door and found that it was in fact, partially open. Hesitation overcame him to walk in. He knew better than to violate a woman's privacy by coming through her door unannounced, especially in the middle of the night. But he had long waited for this moment all day. This was his chance to check up on her and see if she was doing better. Besides, if the lantern was gone maybe it was an indication that she was awake. He pushed the door with his hand.

His head slowly peered in, anticipating her to be sitting upright. Instead, he found her snug in his blanket, sleeping soundly by the lighted lantern. The faint light shone upon her structured face, showcasing her features in the orange glow. Her eyes lay smooth with slumber as her thick dark lashes kissed the skin of her cheeks. Her eyebrows were relaxed and her lips closed into a soft line. She looked peaceful, and even alluring.

He was quick to shoot the thought down and looked away. She could not be made a distraction to him. Why should she anyway? She was just a girl, it wasn't like he hadn't been exposed to one before. Except this one had unique eyes and a fighting spirit. He looked back to her. She also had many bruises. Immediately, the sight of them tugged his conscience, reminding him of his lack of protection to her from the captain. He furrowed in self disappointment at his failed deed. Spy, liar, or innocent woman, this girl was still his responsibility. Or at least he believed. No matter her label or even the pages of her past, this girl's needs became his primary obligation. And he knew that she couldn't be anything less, no matter how hard he wanted to make it so. But in the end, she was receiving the aid he promised and was on the road to healing. That's all that mattered for now. He slowly brought the door to a close.

Once Emma heard his footsteps fade away, she squinted one eye towards the door. When she found that Connor had gone, she opened both of her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she readjusted herself comfortably upon the couch before digesting recent events. The conversation she had overhead was quite puzzling. What had they meant when they said she was a threat? All this time she was thinking that they would be the threat, if anyone. Either way, she had to change that image somehow. Ideas flowed through her head before her eyes grew heavy once more. Sleep soon overcame her.

* * *

The next morning was dark. The storm hadn't ceased, nor did it's rage even lessen. Snow continued to fall, wind kept blowing against the house, and the sun didn't peer out of the sky. The residents of Davenport Homestead hunkered in their homes in high hopes that this storm would pass over soon. But this is what winter brought.

Connor didn't appreciate it either. He had many things to do, such as helping around the homestead and making his way back to Boston to hunt down the Templar Johnson. Traveling was definitely out of the picture, as the snow kept piling and the wind kept raging. He was particularly frustrated by these hindrances due to the fact that he wanted to leave now more than ever. Johnson was his first major target and he needed to find leads to him. Also, leaving the homestead meant breaking himself away from Emma, who indirectly tortured his conscience. His first priority was his Assassin's mission and by the looks of the conditions outside, he wouldn't get any closer to completing it. With traveling becoming a nonexistent option, he would be stuck here, in the same house with the woman that drove him crazy. He needed to get out of there.

So he resorted to helping families around the homestead. He decided to go see if anyone needed assistance during this horrible storm, surely they would have been underprepared beforehand. Early that morning he packed for his local quest up in his room. In buckskin sacks he placed extra ammo for his gun, snares, bait, and some water. After putting on his robes and boots, he lodged the sacks onto his belt and then placed his bow upon his back. Finally, he reached for his tomahak and pistol and locked those onto himself too. He drew thought on his heavily weapon clad suit. He knew the homestead community was domestic as more families came in, but wild threats still posed such as forest animals and rough terrain. There had been many episodes in which the residents here had experienced both so it never hurt to be prepared.

On that note he stepped out of his bedroom. He closed the door gently, in consideration Emma's slumber. His eyes gazed towards her door and saw that it was again, partially open. At the observation he felt a flitter in his chest. The curiosity raved through him once more at the indirect invitation, inclining him to peer his head in once more. There would be no shame in that.

So he walked over there, intent on looking over her condition. He placed his hand upon the door but then felt hesitation come over him once again. Achilles' words ran through his head, _"remember your manners..keep your distance."_

Technically, he was being courteous, as he was simply checking upon her condition. Achilles had told him to keep an eye on her after all. And he was keeping his distance too, by not fully approaching her and not even letting her see himself. Connor believed that he was doing everything just fine and not disobeying anything his mentor instructed. He proceeded with assurance.

This time as he looked in, he found Emma asleep but at the other end of the couch. He found it curious but brushed it off as an unimportant observation. Her room was dark, having the windows showcase a grey sky and white haze of a snowstorm. She remained still and appeared snug under that fur blanket of his. He wondered how she would react if she knew they were his.

"Excuse me, sir."

Connor jumped at the gentle whisper. He looked down and saw the lady servant Lillian look up at him with wrinkled golden eyes.

"You needn't worry, I've got her taken care of."

Connor felt his face get hot. "Of course. I was just seeing if the room was cold."

The old woman grinned warmly at him. "Certainly, dear. But she's alright, I've got her."

He gave her a nod before she passed beside him and entered the room. He watched momentarily as the maid went over to the fireplace and started to create a fire. His gaze went back to Emma and saw her body rise and fall in deep breaths. Satisfied with her restful condition, he turned started towards the stairs.

* * *

About a half hour later, Emma awakened. She immediately sat upright, realizing once more that she was in a strange home in a strange place. She looked around her room, seeing a grey glow illuminate her room from the storm outside. The space seemed livelier today, with the furniture recently dusted and a fire heating the chilled air. It made her feel at ease.

"Good morning, Miss Maywood."

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the soft voice. She turned her head towards the door and saw an elderly woman carrying a silver tray holding a teapot.

"No need to be afraid, dear, I'm just an old woman." The maid laughed. "It's been a trend I've kept up today though, startling people."

Emma cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm used to being alert."

"That's alright. All the better to be, I suppose." The maid set the tray down on a table. She then began to pour tea into a delicate cup.

"I want to thank you again Lillian," Emma started, "for dressing me last night and taking care of me."

The old woman brought over the teacup with a smile. "It's what I do, dear, don't need to fret with common courtesy. But I thank you and also bid you welcome. Now drink up."

Emma raised the porcelain cup to her lips. The ember liquid was hot and smelled sweet. She had forgotten the taste of tea, as she was used to either water or beer but was eager to try it again. She took a gingerly sip.

Immediately the taste became bitter and plain in her mouth. She unknowingly made a disgusted face and to her horror she heard the old woman laugh in response. "Oh that's alright. I never really liked that kind anyway either." She took the cup away. "It's the only one Master Davenport likes."

Emma felt her heart start at the name. "Is that the old man? Davenport?"

"Yes, Achilles is his first name. He's the one that owns this manor."

Emma's thoughts raced at the memory of his words from the night before. He had thought her a possible enemy and Emma didn't like that. She was staying in his home afterall, but even so she didn't want to be perceived that way. The last thing she needed was more conflict to arise in the time between now and when she could go home. Besides, who's to say how far their distrust would go? Would they plot to restrain her or even forbid her to leave? She needed to clarify her motives.

"Do you think I could meet him?" Emma asked.

"Oh no." The old woman opposed. "You are in no condition to trundle down those stairs now. Give a few days to let your wounds heal. Maybe then you will walk better and then seek the Master."

Emma looked down in disappointment. A few days? What if that was too long of time? For all she knew schemes could be made towards her by then.

She looked towards the door and saw it's inviting entrance. It was opened wide, as if baiting her desire to reach the old man. She then looked to Lillian, who was meddling with the tea set. An idea popped into her head.

"Lillian,"

"Please call me Lily dear."

"Lily, can I ask a favor of you?"

Of course! What do you need?"

"Can you get me another blanket, please?"

The old woman gave her a smile before brushing off her apron. "I will be back momentarily."

Emma watched the maid leave the room. At the moment she did, Emma rose from her seat and took a deep breath. She urged her feet to tiptoe quickly and quietly between her limps across the wooden floor. The pain rose in her legs but she grit her teeth and bore through with every step.

Soon she reached the doorway and peeked her head out of it. The long hallway before her was empty and silent. Emma saw her chance and took it. She urged her feet once more to tread lightly. Not a sound was made as she approached the stairs. Her left foot lowered down onto the first step.

Right as she did so, a sound startled her from nearby. She looked up and saw that activity was going on in a room that stood adjacent to the stairs. The door was cracked open, and the sounds of trunks closing seeped through. This scared Emma, as she dreaded getting caught in her act. But she only kept a watchful eye as she continued downward, praying that Lily stayed in there. As soon as she could no longer see the room while she descended, she quickened her pace and scurried down the rest of the way.

When she stepped off the final step, a sense of nervousness ran through her. She didn't know the house or the man that owned it, but she was going to talk to him today. Or she had hoped do so. Her bare feet walked gingerly against the cold floor as she leaned in to the first room near the entry way. It was an elaborate dining room, having a great table but no one sitting in it. She tried the room across, a cozy study fit enough to also be called a library, but still no one was there. A series of footsteps hurried on the floor above her. Emma knew that Lillian had discovered her disappearance. At the realization, she rushed down the great hallway and walked into the kitchen. She failed again to see anyone but then she heard a constant thudding in the next room over.

Relief rushed over her as she found an elderly man walking solemnly towards the kitchen entrance. His head was down and focused on his cane, which hit the floor unabashedly with every step. Emma was surprised that he hadn't noticed her standing a few feet before him but she decided to knock gently against the wall.

He immediately looked upward and blinked at the surprise of her. He let out a gasp.

"Goodness, woman. Give an old man a fright."

"I'm sorry," Emma rushed to him. "I didn't mean to, I swear."

The old man released a chuckle. "Don't worry about it. At my age almost anything gets me going. What can I do for you?"

Emma folded her hands before looking into his brown and constant eyes. "I came down to meet you, since I didn't get the chance when I first arrived."She looked over his withered hands before lending one of her own out to him. "My name's Emma and I'm from Boston."

The old man was curious towards her voluntary meeting. He was also kind of glad, as he wanted to find out who she was. Her eagerness to talk to him was interesting due to the fact that she looked like she was greatly injured, and shouldn't be standing before him now. He was also surprised by the notion of a handshake, as it was uncommon for women to initiate them, and also because her wrists were a terrible grey color. Of course her face and neck didn't prove to be in any better of condition as they themselves were littered with similar grey and purple spots. He looked on to find that her hair was wild and feet bare, but in her eyes he saw a sincerity that deepened their ashen color.

"Achilles," he gently took her hand and shook it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

She gave him a small grin.

"Boston, you say?" he observed her darker shade of skin. "What brings you way out here then?"

Emma's face grew solemn as she dropped her gaze. "I was attacked in town by military men. I was beaten and then Connor came and took me away from them. He brought me in hopes of seeing the doctor here." Her gaze went back up to him and lightened. "But the doctor isn't here which is why I want to thank you for letting me stay in your home. I've gotten really good care here."

"I'm pleased to hear that we're helping you to the best of our ability, Miss.."

"Maywood," Emma finished. "And I promise you that I won't stay long at all. I'm waiting for the doctor to return but even if he doesn't, I'll make sure to my stay is temporal."

Achilles looked softly at her. "I appreciate your modesty Miss Maywood but you need not worry about truncating your stay. You are welcome here as long as your wounds permit."

"Thank you," Emma said with a smile. "I'll try not to be such a burden or hindrance. And I promise that I don't pose a threat."

Achilles' eyes flickered at the last phrase. He looked deeply into her eyes and saw an underlying hint of kindred understanding, as if she knew of the questions within him.

"I doubt you will be," Achilles answered in kind. "But if I may be so bold to ask, but would you consider having dinner with Connor and I one of these days? Perhaps when you are more recovered?"

Emma blinked at his invitation. "With you…_and _Connor?"

He looked inquisitively. "Would that be a problem?"

"No, no." Emma caught her obvious discomfort. "I would like that very much."

"Wonderful." He chimed with a smile. "I'll have Lillian notify me of when would best work for you. In the mean time, I hope you have a pleasant stay."

Emma put on a polite grin and nodded.

A series of light footsteps ran through the hallway. The old woman appeared and rushed to Emma's side. "There you are! I looked everywhere for you!" She turned and gave a slight nod to Achilles. "I'm sorry for not watching over her more carefully, sir. She won't bother you anymore."

"That is the least she has done, Lillian." The old man assured. "We were just having a nice conversation, talking of dinner plans in fact."

The maid looked surprised. "Oh. Then I guess all things are well off." She placed her hand on Emma's arm. "Come along, miss, let's get you back upstairs."

With that, Emma bid farewell to Achilles and started for the stairs with Lily's assistance. The old man looked after her in curiosity. She had indeed manifested his presumptions audibly, but he didn't recall seeing her the night of the conversation. He knew that Connor wouldn't say anything either, as that would have been foolish. But her message was made clear to him that she wanted to be on cordial terms,. That notion wasn't so bad, if he wanted to know more about her it would be better if they were both eager to interact with one another. Yet she did act strange at the mention of Connor's name. Was the nature of their relationship as friendly? None the matter really, he supposed that the truth would be revealed at their forthcoming dinner. Only then could he see if she was who she composed herself to be, or if she was merely just an act.

* * *

**Replies to Reviews:**

beafstew: First of all, you have a cool name. Secondly, thank you so much for your glowing review! I can't tell you how much I appreciate you telling me what you liked about the story and writing style. I was really unsure of what the story's strengths were so I was extremely happy that someone could name some xD I felt like flying after reading your review so thanks again :)

Lilian Mellark-Kenway.: For some reason I never realized what your username entailed haha. I recognized the Kenway but today I looked at Mellark and was like :O Props to you! Hunger games and Peeta are awesome :) At least, I'm hoping that what you're referencing to O. I want to thank you as well for your support and reviews. Your comment on deepening Connor's emotion towards Emma really drove me to write this chapter the way it is now. It helped me set a goal in mind and a reminder that the emotional part of the story is just as important as the plot is. Thank you for making that suggestion/hope clear to me, as it really helped me see what you want to see unfold next in the story :)

Anonymous readers: I don't know if there's many of you or maybe just one, but thank you for your support and patience. Even your urgent comments make me happy xD I didn't mean to wait this long to post this chapter as I edited it so many times. In the future I'll try not to do that to you guys. So keep looking out for more updates because this chapter was once super long and then I cut into smaller ones. And these smaller ones will be the chapters following up this one so they should come soon. :)


	10. Chapter 12

Hello! So I can see that I already broke a promise . I didn't mean for this chapter to be posted as long after the previous one. I had something come up over the weekend and then when I began to work on it again, I revised the whole thing and practically rewrote it all XD So I'm sorry for making you wait but I really want to make the story the best it can be, even if that means a lot of time to be invested in it :O Thanks for all of your support and patience! You guys are awesome :)

* * *

_Contemplations_

_Davenport Homestead: January 1774_

Emma contemplated her conversation with Achilles. Her mission had succeeded, in so that she earned herself a good impression upon meeting the master of the house. That was exactly as she wanted, to earn trust from the doubtful old man. Perhaps she had convinced him that she wasn't what he thought her out to be, after all, he did invite her to a dinner.

She had quite a bit of mixed emotions towards that invitation. She was primarily happy that he would be inclined to make such an intimate offer; an invitation to sit at his dinner table was nothing less than an eager welcome to become acquainted. Though that was encouraging to hear, she felt uneasy about it too. "Join Connor and I," he said. That only meant that she had to be in the company of the brooding native as well, which was not something she wanted. In her mind she decided that trust could cultivate between herself and the seemingly harmless old man but not with Connor. He wasn't harmless, nonetheless friendly or cordial. She found him mysterious, strange, and potentially dangerous. Would a dining table between them be enough to keep him on edge?

Not only that, but she would have to reveal details of herself and life before him. If Achilles' wanted to get to know her, surely he would ask about her life in Boston, family, or personal interests. She would only have to respond to these inquiries in kind to the both of them. The last thing she wanted was for Connor to know her any more deeply than he already did, which wasn't very much to begin with, but that's how she preferred it. In fact, in her opinion, he had known too much. He knew where she worked and what she did for a living. He probably knows of a few of her associates like Julian or Captain Swayde. When she would finally return home, would he pursue her there? Would he simply leave her alone?

She desperately wanted to think so. But a greater problem arose with her family's secret. During the chases between her and Connor in Boston, her father revealed that the Maywoods had been a part of decades-long smuggling operation with Swayde's crew. He told her right before Connor chased her into Peace's clutches, in fact. And Connor revealed that he had seen a piece of paper in her pocket at the Green Dragon Tavern, thinking it was his precious list. It was only a piece of a map she received from her father that day, portraying scattered locations of hidden hoards filled with smuggled goods. _Their smuggled goods._

Her heart stopped at the thought. The piece of paper. It was in her jacket pocket when she sat with Julian and even with Eli. It was there when she ran out of the tavern from Connor, and then when Peace caught her. _When Peace caught her_. He held it in his gloved hands, waving it precariously before all the soldiers and Connor. Her secret wasn't hidden for long that day.

She blinked at a new realization. Was that his reason? To take her home so he could extract more information towards these hoards or even the Swayde operation? It would make sense. The profit he would make…

Her thoughts stopped at the sound of the door opening. Emma looked to her right and saw Lillian step in with a large blanket. After she shut the door with her foot, the old woman walked over to the couch where the injured girl was sitting on and handed her the blanket. Emma smiled at such devotion and stroked it's surface. Before she could say thank you she looked up and saw a glower coming from the old woman's face. That smile vanished.

"That was rude, you know. Fooling me as you did."

I'm sorry." Emma said apologetically. "I just really wanted to talk to him. I didn't mean to disrespect you at all."

"Hm." The old woman turned and walked towards a lone pitcher and cup that sat on a far table.

"I most certainly hope so," the old woman called behind her. "I am not one to favor tricks and schemes, Miss Maywood. If you would please oblige me in never doing that again, I would appreciate it whole heartedly." She brought back the pitcher and a tin cup.

" I won't do it again." Emma said sincerely.

"Good. Now I want to like you, child. And you can't be giving me scares like that."

Emma gave a small smile. "I understand."

The old woman smiled warmly to the young girl's agreement. She turned to her side to fix Emma a glass of water. As she did so, Emma's eyes fell on her. She studied the small frail woman and concluded that her name was appropriate to her appearance. She was wearing a plain yellow dress that was modest and long. Her skin was peach colored and graced with wrinkles and freckles that complimented the contours of her round face. Her long white hair was adorned in a high and large bun. Emma could even make out the remnants of her once golden color sweep over where the ends met in the hairstyle. As the old woman turned back to her, Emma could see a round nose above a set of ripe pink lips. Laugh lines embellished around her eyes, which in themselves were golden, accentuated, and steady. Her beauty was rather alarming.

"Is everything alright, Miss Maywood?"

Emma blinked out of her trance. "Yes, I'm sorry I was just...you're really beautiful."

"Oh thank you, child." The woman cooed. "I don't get words like that often. Well not anymore for that matter." She blushed as she spoke. "But enough of myself, we need to get_ you_ cleaned up."

Emma froze at her words. "What do you mean? I thought we already did that."

The woman stared blankly. "You mean last night? Oh no, that was just medical business, dear, now it's time for beauty."

"Beauty?" Emma's eyes widened. "But I've never-"

"Come now," Lillian urged with a gentle grip, "I'll see you taken care of."

Emma rose slowly, dreading what the old woman had planned for her. Not a day in her life had Emma been pampered or dressed in feminine means. Make up, dresses, and perfume were all completely foreign and even distasteful to her. She saw how most girls in Boston used them to great extent, hiding their true appearance. She was one to prefer things naturally and even so she had been a boy nearly her whole life. None of those things applied to that matter. Save the brushing of her hair, grooming for accentuating beauty didn't exist in her line of life experiences.

As Lillian sat her down into a cushioned chair, Emma grabbed the old woman's hand. "Lillian-"

"I told you to call me Lily dear."

"Lily, please don't do this. I appreciate your care but I honestly don't want to be wearing any of this," She gestured to the bottles before them. "I never have and would like to keep it that way."

Emma saw the light from the old woman's face vanish. Her smile disappeared and her eyes glinted with disappointment. She then released a sigh. "Very well. But at least let me clean you up."

Emma eyed her suspiciously.

"There will be no makeup, no dresses just a quick polishing."

Emma was hesitant but she caved into the old woman's plea. "Fine."

Emma sat stiffly in her chair as Lily tended to her task. Her face was washed with a hot towel and it felt good over her bruises. Then she felt the old woman's hands pat a clear liquid over Emma's face and neck. She could detect a flowery smell arising from it, but it was light and even refreshing. Next her dark and wild tresses were being tamed by the mercy of a comb. It was one of the most painful experiences Emma had endured, but it also felt strangely relieving, maybe even relaxing. She had often wondered what it would have been like to have some motherly figure tend to activities such as this upon her. She watched her sister Madelyn do such things to their younger sister Grace, but Madelyn would dare not place such affection on her.

The woman started speaking as she combed. "Miss Maywood, are you and Master Kenway good friends?"

Emma strained her expression. "Who?"

"Master Kenway? Connor, the young man that brought you."

Emma nearly sneered aloud but caught herself. "Uh, no. We're just...actually I don't know what we are. I was attacked in Boston and he found me and brought me here because no doctor was available."

"Ah," the old woman replied. "Quite noble, I must say. But also strange considering his behavior lately."

Emma perked up in curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think you might have grabbed his attention. I caught him this morning checking in on you." The woman replied gently. "Just before I walked in to prepare your fire, he was standing in your doorway." She laughed lightly at the memory. "I was certain there was some relation between you two."

Emma looked forward. "There isn't one, I assure you. I will admit that he is quite strange, though." She let out a chuckle. "He's not some culprit or pervert, right?"

Lily nearly dropped her comb at Emma's words. She immediately stopped her task, crouched in front of her, and looked straight into Emma's eyes. "No, Miss, he is anything but. I've known him since he was a boy and he has turned out to be the most humble, brave, and noble man." She gripped Emma's hands. "He cares deeply about people. Though I know he may not look like it or even show it, he lives to serve those around him."

Emma blinked at the woman's glowing review of him. She didn't mean for her presumptions to really be serious but she was surprised to hear such a high defense in his name.

"If there's an uncertainty between the two of you," Lily started again, "I encourage you to give him a chance. He's worth knowing."

Emma nodded before forcing a smile. It was good enough for the old woman to leave her position and continue combing Emma's hair again. As she did, Emma looked toward her door and contemplated Lily's words. A caring and humble man? All Emma had seen were angry demands and a ridiculous amount of smirking from him. Could he really be as this woman said? Most certainly not after what she had thought earlier about him and Swayde's smuggling empire. If his motives truly revolved around finding the hoards, he was being smart, tactful even. He brought her to his home and had her taken care of; she was perfectly set in his reach.

And now he was watching her. Lily said he lingered at her doorway this morning. How often did he do that? If he did it once, he'll do it again. She was merely in his clutches, simply waiting to be devoured and she literally couldn't get away. Her legs wouldn't carry a full sprint now, her walk was pathetic enough.

In fact, there were only so many things she could do physically. Her mobility was extremely limited and her knowledge of this vast place even so. She knew she wouldn't stand much of a chance against him in a weapons' battle or if she tried to convince him to let her go home. At this point, the odds looked great in his favor. He had all of the advantages and now it seemed like all there was left to do was to strike.

However, little did Connor know that Emma had a thing for puzzles and games. This certainly had to be one or the other, and she could learn how to play. If she did, maybe there was a chance for her to defy the odds and beat out this strange experience.

Her mind explored the possibilities of how she could get through this, mentally glancing over strategies and tools she could use. Again, she was limited to a near minimum and given her condition and location, her options would be few. For a quite a few moments as she sat in that chair, she thought long and hard of what she could do. It was rather despairing, as she struggled with finding a decent option.

This was a mind game, or at least she had to make it so. Her physical defenses had been forfeited and now she had to use her mind. To outsmart him would be best but she didn't fully know his intentions or his plan for her. She had a pretty good idea of what he had in mind but she needed to investigate a little more; study his movements. Finally the idea came to her head. She would watch him too.

* * *

Connor took a deep breath as he walked out of the manor that morning. Before he stepped off the porch, he decided something. His concern for Emma was surely strong and growing nonetheless, and he knew that it was all wrong. He knew better than to let his emotions get so out of control and his sight so out of focus and he needed to bring it all back together. He was an Assassin; a man disciplined by countless hours of learning the very foundations of balance and control. He had been physically and mentally pushed beyond all boundaries and came forth through to the other side; surely he could overcome this task.

This task. Was it so mere to regard it so? This woman tugged him from a strange angle, deepening his misunderstanding towards the human heart. How could so many emotions be led so astray? He had immense focus. Although, in his training, he had been warned that the things of the world would try to lure him away and he was experiencing it now. But he was also told that he didn't have to give in to the temptation, and could win victory.

And he would win victory. He promised that to himself. So many more important things were at stake in this land and in his life. He couldn't just give all of his training, his suffering, and rising ambition for some injured girl. She was ruining it all, distracting him from his purpose.

He exhaled. He saved her from further pain or humiliation in Boston, brought her here to be cared for, made sure that happened, and now she was safe in Lillian's care. There wasn't any more reason to care about her, right? His mission with her was completed, for the most part. Until she had to return of course or if she turned out to be some asset to the enemy.

His mind halted on that last thought. What if she really was an enemy? Achilles was wise to presume such things because of her association with Peace. She was practically in the headquarters of the Colonial Assassins and if she was found to be of the Templars, then she would have to casted out or terminated. If the possibility was there, then perhaps he should act more like Achilles and hold her with more suspicion. He should have been behaving like so towards her anyway considering how much he didn't know about her. That was the standard for most strangers, civilian or not. It was about time he would treat her as such, and lessen his care for her. That would be the right thing to do.

With those convictions in mind, he worked through the day.

It would turn out to be a rough day for Davenport residents, and a busy one for Connor. He took up the goal of aiding his neighbors in the wake of the great storm that overcame them all and achieved it to the fullest. He went to nearly every house in the valley, aiding families with whatever they asked him to. Whether it was herding animals, lifting barnyard equipment, fixing house damages, or stocking up supply, he was there to ensure security.

He hoped that doing these things would distract him from Emma. To his pleasure, they did, and he realized that he could continue to think of her less. He had to, as the possibility of her being a threat arose and he had to treat her like so. His life could be as it was before she came and he could still strive towards his missions with focus. He would not let her get in the way from now on.

Having done these tasks all day long with full heart and mind, Connor was tired by dusk. He hadn't stopped all day to rest or to eat. The thought of home was alluring as it promised food and a bed but he couldn't return home yet. There was one last thing to do.

He was at the home of Terry, a Scottish lumberjack who had wife named Diana. They were friends to Connor, though Terry's temper was sometimes aggravating. The real bond rested with the couple's son Kale. The young boy with the significant birthmark on his face had a keen interest in Connor and was eager for any chance to be around him. The Native had taught him some basic defensive skills, Mohawk childhood games, and plenty of moral advice. He was looked up to as a big brother and loved nonetheless.

On this day, Connor was helping Terry move large wood planks into a storage shed. Many of them were snowed on, so the men had to spend a lot of time digging them out before lugging them out of climate's reach. Kale stuck around them, not being too much of a help. He was instructed by his father to help dig but the boy preferred making snow structures instead.

After about a half hour, the arduous task was complete. Terry and Connor were hot from the labor despite the blistering cold and also exhausted. They stood back and examined their work in the shed

"This is good, Connor," Terry said with a thick accent. "Thanks for your help again. I would've called Godfrey over but he and I are in a bit of a spout as of now." He slapped Connor's arm. "Why don't you come in for a drink and dinner? We can spare an extra plate."

Connor looked to Terry."I appreciate the offer but I need to be getting home, as it is getting late."

"Of course," the Scotsman complied. "Get outta here and get some rest. Go home to that old man you live with." His expression turned serious and he folded his arms. "You need to find a girl, lad. And kick that old man out."

Connor shifted his stance."I'm afraid that is not my greatest priority at the moment. Maybe someday though."

A sour expression came from Terry."Pfft. Not your priority-that is every man's priority! Get a move on it before it's too late." He looked around before whispering, "There's some good ones around here, you know."

Kale stood between them. "What about that sick girl at your house?"

Connor watched Terry's face beam in shock. "There's one in your home and you haven't hooked her? What's the matter with you, lad?"

The native eyed Kale before calmly explaining to Terry. "She is not a friend or anything more. She is just a guest seeking refuge at the Manor until Dr. White comes back."

Terry looked out at the wintery scene around him and let out a laugh. "Don't count on your hopes, lad. This storm ain't going anywhere and we probably won't be seeing Lyle for a loooong time. No one's going to be able to cross the mountain pass for weeks."

Connor gazed at the white world around him. He figured that he could somehow manage through the extreme weather but perhaps Terry was right. Conditions had grown severe. Would his mission be post-poned once more? Emma wouldn't be able to leave either.

Terry placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Count this as a blessing. Now you're stuck with a woman living in your home." He smiled smugly as he left the shed. "Best of luck to you."

Connor watched as Kale and Terry went into their home. He didn't realize how much greater of a problem the snow had made Emma and to himself. It would keep him busy and distracted from her as he would have to do neighborly tasks every day, but it would also keep the both of them here. He couldn't begin his next mission in Boston and she certainly couldn't travel that way either. Terry was right; he was stuck here with that girl.

So much for controlling emotions.

* * *

The winter chill thawed off of Connor's body as he entered the Manor. The presence of home was relieving to him, as he was exhausted and burned from the wind.. The heat felt nice against his wet robe and boots, which helped carry in a trail of snow. He stopped momentarily to shake all of the excess off of him and found more than he thought as a great amount littered on the floor around him. Hopefully Achilles wouldn't mind.

Soon he started to go up the stairs. He wondered how Emma was doing, but quickly shot the thought down. He had to remind himself that he wouldn't let himself care. She was fine and it didn't really matter. She could be the enemy. She could be the enemy. She could be the enemy.

"Connor? Is that you walking in?"

Connor stopped his trek upwards at the sound of the raspy voice. He let out a sigh and turned around. He followed to where the voice came from, which was in the dining room. Upon sight, he found the old man sitting in one of the two end captain's chairs of the great dining table, before the front windows and a  
displayed stuffed eagle. Connor's steps were heavy with moisture as he walked to Achilles, squelching upon the floorboards. When he stopped in front of him, his robes dripped moisture onto the floor.

The old man eyed the growing pool around his apprentices' feet. "My floors.."

"What do you need, old man?" Connor asked rather impatiently.

Achilles pondered over the puddle on his floor momentarily before looking up at the native. "I have something I want to tell you. It's about your lady friend."

Connor stiffened. "What is it?"

"She came to see me today."

Connor gave a quizzical look. "She came down? What did she say?"

"Well, for one, she introduced herself." The old man looked down as he shifted in his seat. "And then she thanked me for letting her stay."

"Thanked _you_?" Connor asked incredulously. "I did not think she knew the word existed."

"She has not done the same for you?" Achilles asked.

"Not once," Connor said annoyed. "She has not even acknowledged that I saved her life."

The old man let out a raspy laugh. "Do you always expect to get praised for your good deeds? You're in for a surprise." He leaned back in his chair and exhaled deeply. "I got her name."

Connor furrowed in irritation. "I already knew her name."

"No boy," Achilles corrected. "You're missing the point. The fact is that she gave me her name, her full name."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Most imposters don't willingly go to full lengths to make their name known, as this girl did." Achilles remarked. "She came down those stairs, shook my hand, gave me her name, and thanked me for my generosity. Limps and all."

Connor was taken aback by such courtesy. It was rather astonishing to hear that she had gone down the stairs alone, considering her physical condition, but to simply meet the old man? Didn't sound like the girl he knew. He pulled up a chair next to his grinning mentor, who beamed at the treatment Emma gave him.

"What are you suggesting then, old man?"

"Nothing. " He said freely. "I still have my doubts towards her but I was simply noting of her consideration towards her hosts."

Connor sighed and shook his head in disagreement before rising from his chair. He didn't understand her strange behavior.

"If there's one thing worth mentioning," Achilles started again. "It's that she doesn't take a liking to you."

A glare was cast to the old man. "She made that clear to me a long time ago."

"I mentioned your name and she grew quite tense," he recalled. "So I invited her to dinner."

The native froze in his stance and looked at Achilles in the eyes. "You..what?"

"I invited her to dinner," the old man replied brightly. "with you and me. Our plan was to talk to her somehow, right? Besides, I saw how she reacted to your name and then I remembered how you reacted towards her in our first conversation and so I thought it would make a great opportunity."

"For what?" the apprentice scanned Achilles' eyes.

"I am very curious to see how she would react around the both of us. It will make her uncomfortable. Then maybe we'll see what she's really like."

Connor folded his arms across his chest and pondered the old man's plan. He knew for a fact that he didn't need to attend a dinner to figure out who she really was. She was one with her own will; stubborn and independent as the storm outside. She was dark, persistent and strange in the path she brewed before her wrath.

That was the side he wanted to believe in. More and more it began to be, as his newfound attitude towards her came into manifestation. Even beforehand, he knew she wasn't merely a courteous but helpless woman. She wasn't some pitiful creature for him to mope for. She was a person that was obstinate in her ways and liked to fight. And was possibly an enemy, no most likely, an enemy.

"When is this supposed to happen?"

"Whenever she feels better." Achilles replied. "I'm expecting her to be ready before the end of the week. You are still keeping your distance, correct?"

Connor started to leave again before releasing a sigh. "I am making sure of it."

He ascended the stairs swiftly, eager to change into fresh clothes and even lay down to rest. The stairs creaked beneath him and the landing protested even louder as he walked upon it. His strides were wide as he walked towards his room.

Suddenly, he stopped. He heard voices, coming from the room across from his. Immediately he felt his insides tug towards the curiosity once again, creating an urge to have him walk over to Emma's door.

He closed his eyes. "Stop." He mentally told himself. She was ungrateful and brash, someone he wasn't supposed to even care about. She didn't need to be a concern for him any longer. His care for her had to be shunned, she was the enemy remember? Why couldn't he label her as that let the situation be?

Because he caused her pain. His eyes opened sorrowfully at the realization. Her suffering came to be by his persistence towards her before and after their encounter with Peace in Boston. He chased her into that attack and then fought with her many times on the way to the Homestead.

His conscience was neglected. At the thought of his role in her injuries he put away his Assassin rationality and gave in to his concern. He walked slowly towards the door. There he stood and listened, observing that the voices had ceased. Perhaps they heard him. At least she was still there, receiving care. He knew that the reason he cared was because he was at fault with her. He was responsible for her and it would be difficult to just let her go as a suspected threat. This misdeed he had done needed to be redeemed and that would come forth through her healing.

However, he couldn't think like that. He needed to compromise his care for her for the sake of his caution. She could be a threat, as Achilles said, and all suspicion needed to be held against her in case something dangerous would happen because of her. One emotion, and certainly not one girl was worth such a risk. He collected his emotions and returned to his convictions. With that, he sighed and walked away.

* * *

Emma marveled at the landscape in the library she stayed in. It was a culturally rich room, with many paintings of great galleys at sea and various flags and maps that hung on the walls. After Lily had left to tend to other duties, Emma took it upon herself to observe every object in the room. Her sense of discovery and curiosity was born on the day she became a shipman to Captain Swayde. The wonder of the ship itself drew her into a life long interest in navigation and destination and this room was filled with those kinds of things.

With some pain in every limp, she moved around the room slowly, gazing deeply into every object in sight. She stared long at the moody colored paintings upon their elaborate frames, read every word that inked the maps of old, and even stuck her nose in some books pertaining to maritime history. She found herself lost in this academic aspect of her trade. This place was full of knowledge and art of the world she knew best, and she wanted to stay there forever.

It would be hours before Lily returned. And when she did, she found Emma pondering over a large antique globe, grazing her fingers across the smooth round surface.

"Miss Maywood?" Lily inquired. "I'm surprised to see you up and about."

Emma awakened from her trance. "I was just looking around the room. The pieces in here are incredible."

"Yes, this room has always been quite amusing," the old woman complied. "Master Davenport is a collecting kind of man. I believe Connor has taken it up as well."

Emma glanced back to the globe. _"Any more surprises?" _

The two women lingered quietly for the next ten minutes or so. Emma was still entranced into the globe by the fireplace and Lily decided to dust off the book shelves. They were both deeply concentrated on their tasks until they both heard heavy and swift footsteps come up the stairs. A chill went through Emma's spine as she figured who it was.

Though her body bent over the globe, she lay still and anticipated his approach. She looked to Lily who had also halted her task and watched the door. The two women were convinced that Connor would enter or at least peer through as Lily observed.

They waited as they heard the footsteps move slowly towards the door. Emma expected their continuous motion to carry onto the entrance of her room but she found that they didn't. His footsteps stopped in front of the door and remained there. Emma eyed the door curiously before turning to Lily, who only motioned with her hands for Emma to say something. Emma shook her head violently and continued to watch. She wanted to see what would happen.

Then after several moments, the footsteps moved from their spot and started to fade away. Emma was rather relieved at the motion as she didn't want to interact with him. As she exhaled, Lily's fixed expression caught her eye. She was smiling brightly at Emma, almost looking like she could squeal.

"What?" Emma asked of her.

"You see?" The maid teased. "He came just like that this morning. Listening for you."

Emma gave the door a narrowed expression. "Why?"

"He might be interested, dear." Lily stated as a matter of fact. "I told you he cares for the people around him. You should let him in next time."

Emma shot a look to her. "No way. I don't like him doing this, it's strange. And I don't like _him _either. "

The old woman scoffed in annoyance. "You are too young to be this bitter, Miss Maywood. Why do you resent him so?"

Emma sighed and returned her gaze to the globe. She had plenty of reasons why she disliked him but she dare not list them off to an old woman who helped raise him. Words struggled to form out of her mouth. "I guess….he is…I'm not…." She took a deep breath. "We just don't get along." She caressed the globe again. "We never have and I don't plan on changing that. I keep my distance and he keeps his.

After a few moments of silence, Emma sensed sadness upon Lily's face. It made Emma feel guilty for her words but she didn't know what else to say. This was the truth of how she felt, no matter who he was to these people. It was also the truth behind her stay, in that it would short, impersonal, and hopefully approaching its end in the near future.

She looked at the old woman. Her face was dimmed by a darker emotion but she was suddenly busy with a new task. Emma watched as she began to gather up stray cups and dish towels around the room. Lily kept her eyes down as she did so, purposely avoiding contact with Emma. She began to speak.

"I am disappointed in hearing you speak of him in this way, Miss Maywood. However, I have no choice but to accept your feelings. Perhaps another time will come for when you may think differently." She stopped her task and walked over to a small chest and pulled out some string and needles. "Shall we start sewing? I want to hem those clothes to fit you."

Emma nodded and walked over to the old woman. She was sat down upon a cushioned chair and her hair was placed over one shoulder. Lily's wrinkled hands began to work on Emma's loose cotton shirt, setting placement needles in spots where she wanted to create a stitch.

After several quiet moments, Emma began to drift into her thoughts again. She thought about Connor and his "game" she had to play. By now she was convinced he was after something from her, most likely it being information towards the hoards. He brought her here and now he was watching her closely. She began to feel rather nervous at the thought. If he were to interrogate her or try to make her reveal details about the maps, smuggling, or hoards, she wouldn't know a thing. On the very day Connor took her away from the scene in Boston, she was merely informed of her father's and Captain Swayde's secret. They hadn't told her where any particular hoards were or how the exact process of smuggling worked. She knew how to take inventory, man a ship, and sell to some clients. But she didn't know any of the dirty details or precious particulars. If she knew anything, it's that she had to keep that whole world a secret. Merchants were often suspected and arrested for smuggling. She didn't need a single stranger to know, let alone this mercenary-like man that practically kidnapped her.

She exhaled and looked towards her door. Whatever Connor had planned for her, she knew she had to be ready, or at least precautious. She needed to hold her guard more than ever and protect herself from the things that would befall her. A close watch needed to be held towards him so she could see his motives. In fact, this secret was so precious and her world and life even so that she decided that any measure should be taken up to defend it all. Whether it would be to fight with words, swing a punch, or hide behind lies, she made up her mind to do whatever it took to safeguard her mysteries.

* * *

**Replies To Reviews: To All: **Thank you everyone for commenting on my story! All of the reviews make me feel so elated and encourage me to write better and more for you guys. A compliment can a long way so I please know that I take each and every one full heartedly. Thank you for your support guys, it's amazing to experience that :)

Guest: I don't know how else to recognize you haha! You posted on Dec. 16 for ch. 9..and you gave a great review :) I'm extremely flattered that you check for updates so often! And I'm glad that you love the story! I appreciate your tidbit of advice and I couldn't agree more with you. The longer a romance is stretched, the better the overall story is so that is my intent ^^ Thanks for the advice and your support.

PSAfrikaans: I have to say that its really cool to receive a review in a different language! I assume that you live from afar! I had to look up your words through google translate but I did and thank you! :) I'm really glad that you enjoy the story and are eager for the next chapter. I'm trying to post them sooner but then I keep revising it so time lingers on. Thank you for your patience! :)

beafstew: Thank you for saying what you liked! I was really nervous about incorporating that scene with Achilles meeting Emma in this chapter because I didn't know if it would fit well quite yet. But I'm glad you liked it!I really appreciate everything you have said to me, and I want to say that I'm absolutely not expecting you to review all of the time, if not anymore. Your support is amazing as well as the compliments you have given. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

South-Africa 101/ Celeste: South Africa?! That's amazing! Greetings from the USA :) Thank you for your compliments! They make me feel confident towards my writing as they tell me what is strong in my writing. Sometimes those kind of comments are better than criticisms because it tells me what I can keep in my style and what you really like. And I will keep writing :). Thank you for support and I hope that the story will continue to be as enjoyable as you say.

Eager Reader: Hahaha I loved your comment on your reaction to my update. I'm sorry that I kept you in the suspense for so long but I'm glad that you are indeed eager. I appreciate you saying that you like my work and that you're excited to read more. I only hope that I can continue to do that for you :)

ACGamer: Thank you! :) I really appreciate your support too, considering you've been around since the very beginning. It's encouraging to see that you're still reading!


	11. Chapter 13

First of all, my apologies. Long time since last posted, it was a busy week considering the holiday! Hope everyone had a good one :) Secondly, thank you guys for making this story have 23 followers! It was 10 not very long ago so it means so much that the number increased in such a short time afterwards! Oh and thanks for making 17 favorites! It really is an honor to have someone save this story as one of their favorites. Its all just awesome, so thank you for that :D This chapter is the longest one; lots of narrative but please read through it, its all important! Please enjoy :)

* * *

_Caught_

_Davenport Homestead: January 1774_

Four days passed.

During this time life at the Manor had became repetitive in its nature. Connor had gone out every morning to aid his neighbors in the storm's wake and would not return until dusk. Emma remained cooped up in the library all day, reading books and being tended to by Lily. Things were steady and very quiet, painting a picture of domestic bliss upon the scene.

However, Emma's mind was anything but settled. Suspicion and vigilance brewed continuously in her head, remembering Lily's remark on Connor's watchful behavior. For all four days she kept her eyes on the door, watching for any signs of lingering beyond it. Dread and ill-boding mystery poured from its face as she stared. It was the only barrier between her and her suspected enemy.

The paranoia grew rapidly inside her each day. She scanned the door frequently and thoroughly, eyeing it suspiciously for any oncoming approaches. She flinched at every shadow she saw near the entrance or whenever the door shook from a wandering breeze. Her muscles tensed at the sound of the squeaking stairs and even when she heard Lily's footsteps arrive in the morning. At every creak and groan the old house made and through every single activity she did, she made sure to glance over that door.

She remembered her game plan. She decided to watch Connor too, as she could only learn about him through observation. This could only take place in her room, as it was the only place her injuries and Lily permitted. However, she was still aware of the activities around her area. When Connor actually hovered outside of her door and listened, she took note of every occasion and felt a rush of nervousness each time. Though those times occurred only once a day at most, she knew well of his visual spying during the early morning and late night, thanks to Lily's observation. She even tried to catch him, staying up past the late hours or rising before the sun. However, to her greatest dismay, she failed every single time. He was perfectly elusive, as if he knew of her sensitive wariness, and that was annoying.

So she began to deepen her surveillance. Shortly after she awakened each morning, she rose and limped to the window, trying to catch the sight of him. She did a few times, watching him labor with his neighbors in the blistering conditions. It was quite interesting to see his devotion to these people, as it was as enduring and invested as his efforts. Then, she watched for when he came home every evening, which was around the same time each day. It would be soon after he returned in which he listened at her door for a few moments and then leave.

By the end of the fourth day, no words or looks had been exchanged directly between the two of them. Connor and Emma only eyed each other in secret, instilling assumptions in their minds toward one another. Emma realized that nothing was really learned of him at all. She only figured his schedule and activities done therein. This frustrated her, as she wanted to know the core of his plans and motives. But, what else could she have done?

She sighed to herself. Lily had placed her down into a chair to have her hair combed. She faced the door as the old woman detangled Emma's long wavy tresses. This was something that was done every day and night since Emma arrived, and she honestly didn't mind it so much. She wasn't one to favor grooming, but fixing her hair was somehow soothing. It eased her mind; lessened the stress she was feeling. Thoughts of Connor occupied her mind all day long, as she contemplated his motives, history, and identity. But she entered a state of relief when the old woman did this.

Lily wasn't oblivious to week's events. She took note of the young adults' behavior and saw it from both sides of the door. Her golden eyes observed the dark expressions casted by both of them as they looked over the same door. She decided to say nothing though, as she figured that it wasn't her business. Still, something about the situation lured her into curiosity. Why was one person showing interest and the other radiating hostility? Trying to make sense of their strange behavior was difficult, and in the end Lily figured that no such conclusion could be quite attainable. All she could do in the mean time was to continue to serve Emma.

At the thought, she placed the wooden comb down. The girl's hair was free of gnarls and it was time to place the scented oils. She walked over to a small box that sat upon a nearby table and pulled out a small vial. Inside was a clear liquid smelling of lavenders. As she turned to walk back to Emma, the old maid looked upon the girl's face. There was a stoic look upon it, staring closely at the door. She also noticed that her face looked different, seeing her wounds looking less apparent.

"Miss Maywood?"

Emma blinked out of focus. "Yes?"

"Have you looked over yourself lately? I think I see a change in you."

With that the maid turned back to the table and looked into the small box. Her wrinkled hands pulled out a palm sized copper mirror. It lay idly in her grasp as she walked back to Emma. Once she appeared in front of her, the old woman offered it with outstretched arms.

Emma looked curiously at the gesture. Her grey eyes lifted to Lily before she gently took it into her own hands. She cradled it in both of her palms and lifted it up to her face before gazing into her own reflection. To her surprise, she noticed that her face was healing rather nicely. Her bruises were starting to fade into her tan skin and she could see that sleep and rest became apparent around her eyes as a grey shadow no longer lingered around them. She lifted a hand to her face and stroked it in amazement of her recovery.

Lily smiled. "You're looking much better, dear. Tea and sleep can do wonders." She grasped Emma's arm. "Now rise."

Emma placed the mirror down and obeyed the old woman's command. She realized that she stood up rather swiftly.

"That's it," Lily encouraged. "Now see the progress on your stomach."

Emma looked down to her core and lifted her shirt. To her utmost pleasure she saw that the great purple and red contusions had diminished by enormous measures. A smile appeared on her face and she was encouraged to inspect the rest of her body. She walked around in a small circle, noticing the ease in her steps. The pain overall had lessened in both her legs and core and at the realization she laughed and looked to Lily. "Look at me!"

"I know, Miss Maywood. "Lily said sweetly. "You've recovered nicely over the course of your stay here. Your blemishes are fading and you have a hint of limp instead of a full one. I don't see why you didn't notice before."

"Guess I was quite comfortable in your care." Emma said while testing her strides.

"Or perhaps you were too distracted."

Emma stopped and looked to Lily again. Her golden steady eyes met with her own icy ones. They both knew she was indeed distracted for the past few days. Her concentration was set entirely on Connor and on monitoring her surroundings. She didn't pay much attention to her wounds with her divergent thought life.

"Tell me child," Lily implored, "Why did you fret about the room as you have this week; hovering by the windows and staring at the door?"

Emma blinked and searched for words. She hadn't thought about explaining her behavior to Lily.

"Is it about Connor?" The old woman continued. "Because if it is, why don't you just speak to him? You know he has a degree of interest for you."

"No," Emma shot at her. "I will not speak to him."

Lily drew closer. "Why do you disdain his interaction so much?"

Emma looked away and put a hand on her hip. She had plenty of reasons of why she wanted to avoid facing him, and particularly meditated on her suspicions. But she couldn't just spout them off to this affectionate and gentle lady. This woman cared for Connor when he was a boy and is still loyal to him now. What would happen if Emma confessed her doubts and motives? Would Lily tell Achilles and cause him to distrust Emma again? That was last thing she wanted to happen. She struggled for the right words.

"B-Because I-" She sighed. "I just don't want to cause any more trouble." She admitted truthfully.

"Dear, you are not-"

"I'm here for one reason. " Emma clarified. "I'm to heal and recover then I can be on my way home. I don't need to be building any more relationships or adding more weight for the masters of this home to carry."

Lily folded her arms and searched Emma's face. "That doesn't explain your vigilance, miss. I can see that you've been uneasy."

"I-I'm just anxious just leave." A partial truth. "I feel like I've been stuck here and I just want to be free to go." She looked on sorrowfully. "So I can go back home."

Lily gazed at Emma with sympathy in her eyes. "Oh, dear," She gently took her hand. "You see how the promise of home isn't far? Surely you'll be on your way soon." She gestured to the mirror. "You're looking more wonderful by the day."

Emma casted a small smile. "Thank you, Lily. For everything you've done. I know I can leave soon because of your care. "

The old woman responded with a smile and a pat to the hand. "Then perhaps you should think on such things instead of other matters that seemed to have taken a burden on you."

Emma nodded and grinned in turn. She watched the old woman walk away. Lily began to collect her box of scented oils and combs with her delicate hands. As she did, Emma reflected on Lily's words. She had never experienced such devotion in her life as this woman had given her. Though she was doted on by her father and Sam when she was a child, motherly affection was something completely out of the picture. It was nice to experience such care.

"Miss Maywood?" Lily called for her attention. "Evening is approaching once more and I'm afraid it's time for me to go away for the night. That is, of course, you need me to help you change."

Emma looked to her. "No, of course. Please go, I'll be fine on my own."

Lily smiled before gathering the box in her arms and walked to the door. "That you shall be. I'll see you in the morning, miss."

"Goodnight."

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Lily slapped the door frame and looked back to Emma. "Shall I tell Master Davenport that you are ready for a dinner with him? Surely you are recovered enough."

Emma felt her heart sink into her stomach. She wished she could have avoided the occasion somehow.

"Um," she began with uneasiness, "I guess you can."

"How delightful!" Lily practically sang. "I'll let him know in the morning. Goodnight Miss Maywood!"

" 'Night."

With that, the door closed and Emma was alone. Save the sound of the flickering fire, silence filled the room. Her thoughts turned to the upcoming dinner, and how uncomfortable the whole event will be. She dreaded for it to happen, but she didn't think much of it in the past few days. Her thinking centered on Connor alone and the possible theories that explained his intentions towards her. She regretted being so focused on such thoughts, when she really should have been thinking about what to say at the dinner. A lot of questions would be asked of her, she assumed, and there was hardly a cover for her to hide behind.

She exhaled discouragingly and walked towards the window. The world outside was bleak and white to the purest form. Flakes whizzed about in the harsh wind and all objects lay hidden in dense fog. It was still light out though, perhaps an hour before dusk. That meant that Connor wouldn't arrive home until then.

Suddenly a peculiar thought came to mind. It would be an entire hour before he would trudge up those stairs. Perhaps it wasn't too late for her to prepare herself before the dinner, but not entirely for her part. She could still investigate Connor; there was enough time for her to do so, and she wouldn't have to do it with mere thinking.

She looked to her door. She long dreaded its other side but perhaps she didn't have to feel that way as of now. Connor's room lingered beyond, unmonitored and empty. She could imagine the information he had in there; maybe there were writings that explained all of him. She walked better now too, so going over there wouldn't be too much of a hassle.

A devious smile crept on her face.

Without another thought, she walked over to her door in easy strides. The limp had decreased dramatically but still lingered at the slightest, as Lily mentioned. Nevertheless, she felt good about her decision and how her condition was getting better. Perhaps the odds were starting to turn in her favor.

When she arrived at her plain white door, she listened for a moment. Once she realized that no sounds came from the other side, she turned the brass knob quietly. The door unlatched from its frame and Emma began to open it slowly. After she did so, she stuck her head out to look for any sign of life. The hallway was silent and lighted by the twilight glow, coming from the windows. The entire place was also empty, so Emma confirmed that it was safe to go. She proceeded out of the room and closed the door behind her.

She was still wearing the big grey long sleeve shirt and pants. They were clean, and now Lily had hemmed them so they would fit Emma. Their material was rather thin, but warm enough to keep her at ease during the cold night. She hoped that she could take them home with her, after all of this had passed, as they were very comfortable to wear.

She walked lightly across the floor, trying to mask her whereabouts. Her feet were bare again, pressing gently against the cold hardwood. As she walked, she listened for any noises throughout the house. The second story was clearly abandoned and that brought relief to her. She thought she could hear pans cluttering in the kitchen below, but she passed it off as something she didn't need to worry about.

When she reached his door, a surge of nervousness ran through her. She long disliked Connor's interaction and who he made himself out to be, and now she stood before his domain. This place was so private and personal to him and she would get the chance to snoop around it all. It felt greatly terrifying, but also rather exhilarating.

Before she continued forward, she looked to her left. The balcony stood there before a window that rested high above the entry hall. She looked into the wintery world and checked for any sign of Connor returning home. A few moments passed and she found that he wasn't coming. Her face gazed back to the door once more and then she exhaled deeply.

With a light touch she pushed the door open. It was strange that it wasn't locked, or even latched shut for that matter, but Emma was fine with it. She peered her head in first before her feet, and scanned the room for any human presence. Sure enough, there was none and she stepped in all the way. Behind her, she closed the door to the point of it remaining ajar; she didn't want to prevent any noises from catching her attention from out in the hall.

She studied the room before her. It was spacious and well kept, having only a few furniture pieces standing around. The walls were colored a light grey and a large red rug lay in the center of the hardwood floor. The exposed windows welcomed the glare of the storm outside, lighting the room with a white glow. Emma also observed that it was very cold too, much alike the disposition of the native that dwelled here.

She took a step forward. Immediately to her right, she saw a large bed. It was set upon a walnut frame and adorn with red blankets. Nearly aligning the bed's position stood an empty fireplace along the furthermost wall. She walked over to it in curiosity, eyeing the peculiar objects that hung on the wall directly above it. Her eyes narrowed at the objects and she came to find that they were clubs; each painted a different color and resting above one another in a vertical line. Such decorations were appropriate for the violent man Connor was.

She continued to walk along the furthermost wall. Near the left corner of the room stood a small desk with a peculiar hat placed upon it. It looked fragile, as it was made of many feathers and beads. She tilted her head in curiosity at the object and figured it as some sort of tribal artifact. Connor's heritage was evident to Emma long before she arrived at the Manor. She noticed his skin color and facial structure, not to mention his attire that hinted with Native American décor. She hadn't known whether he came directly from a village or had grown up in the English world in the colonies, as she had. The piece in front of her showed her that if anything would be concluded about him it was that he took pride in his heritage.

She continued along, stepping over the great rug, until she ran into the wall that stood to the left of the entrance. A wooden desk stood against it, accompanied with drawers, shelves, and a cabinet directly above it.

This was what she wanted; any place set as the source of documentation regarding who Connor was. Anything from this desk would surely give her the answers she needed, as it held many books on the shelves. However, the cleanliness of the desk disappointed her. She would rather have it be untidy, with papers and journals lying loosely about for her grab and rummage through. But now she had to be careful, and remember the places and orientations of each object she wanted to observe. No more suspicions should be set against her if anything was found out of place.

She reached for a book upon the hanging shelves. Her hand grabbed a thick one, colored black and leather-bound. She brought it into her chest and looked down into it as her fingers flipped through the pages. Immediately, she recognized that the script within was written in a language completely foreign to her. She could tell it was a journal though, as the handwriting was swift and messy. This was unfortunate, since she couldn't read the things he wrote. Her hand reached for another book and found another journal in the exact same condition. And then another. Then another! Impatience began to stir in her as she realized that she may not be able to learn anything about him.

Her eyes looked to the next shelf up the wall and found a series of brown leather bound books. However, on their spines were printed titles and authors, all spanning over different subjects such as history, language, mathematics, and philosophy. Was Connor an educated man? Emma noticed that he spoke well when he did, but why would he need to study such things if he was already skilled in combat?

Unreadable journals and academic subjects; these were the things Emma found on her investigation towards Connor. Discouragement didn't begin to surface the feelings stirring inside of her. This was supposed to be a turning point for her; she needed some sort of advantage in Connor's game she was playing. At this point however, things looked bleak for her again, and she felt nearly defeated.

She let out a sigh and took a few steps back. On the final step, her foot pressed on the very edge of a wide plank. As her weight placed down on it, she heard it creak. Then without a second more, she felt her foot crash through the wood and fall into a crevice beneath the floor. The pain was immediate as the rough wood scraped against her skin, but before she could digest her mishap wholly, she found her entire body falling backwards. Her impact was loud. Shock raved through her body from the sudden event and she hoped that no one heard it. She grimaced at the pain on her captured foot and fallen back, and waited for the sound of someone coming up those stairs. A few tense and silent moments ensued, but then she sighed in relief; no one was coming.

She raised her torso up with the help of her elbows and she looked down toward her foot. A great hole lay in the floor, stretching over only the single plank she stepped on. It was rather deep nonetheless, swallowing her leg up to just before her knee. She whimpered at the sight.

This certainly didn't look good. If anything could be more obvious of intrusion…

She lifted her foot out of the hole. Then she stood upright, gazing at the damage she had done. What was she supposed to do now? Leave and pretend like it didn't happen? She needed to hide it, cover it somehow. Her eyes scanned the room slowly. It wouldn't take long before she found a solution.

She walked over towards the great rug. By the corner she lifted it up and dragged it towards the hole. It was heavy in its weight, but perfect for hiding her mistake. Hopefully Connor wouldn't notice the misplacement of his rug; it was only a few feet off from its original place, anyways. Besides, it was the best she could do.

After that was taken care of, she returned to the desk. She couldn't give up her search yet, despite the pain that throbbed in her foot, but surely something here would be of value. Her eyes studied over the table surface first, noting the objects there. A jar of ink, some feathered quills, and another pile of brown books lay about. Thinking that those books would be her best chance, she looked over them and disappointedly found that they too were of academic subjects. She groaned aloud. Her eyes scanned the desk more and landed on a drawer. A hand reached for the knob and she pulled it open. Another book fell in her sights, but this one was different. Like the others, it was brown but it had no title or author stated. Only a strange symbol appeared on the cover, one that looked similar to the letter "A." Emma's eyes furrowed quizzically at its unfamiliarity before opening to the first page. In a bold black print read the words, "The Assassins: A Brief History of the Sacred Brotherhood."

A curious expression formed on her face. This was definitely interesting. Emma recalled her father explaining the Mason brotherhood back in Boston, and how they formed for a specific cause in secret. She didn't know of any other societies of the sort, but maybe Connor did. What if he was actually partaking in one? Could that explain his mysteries?

Her fingers started to flip through the pages. Before long, a loose piece of paper stuck out loose from the spine. It was wrinkled, thin, and folded in half. She set the book down onto the desk and took the paper in her hands. Her fingers unfolded it gently. When her eyes fell upon it, she blinked in disbelief.

It was a map; one that looked too familiar for her comfort. It appeared just like the one her father had given her in Boston, vague with boundary lines and words, but littered with small triangular markings. She studied it for many moments. Thoughts of Julian came to her, recalling that he said that many maps of the hoards used in Colonial smuggling history had gone missing. Did Connor have a piece? If this was true, then he was already looking for the hoards.

Emma's suspicions were confirmed at that moment. This had to prove that he was against her; that he was looking for the secret "treasures" that Swayde's crew had long worked to keep hidden. What would he use her for, to explain the mysterious nature of the maps or lead him to a specific hoard? Whatever he had in mind, now Emma knew what he truly wanted and decided on what to do next. Forget the dinner or even seeing Achilles again; she needed to leave.

She refolded the map in her hands. Thoughts of escape stirred in her head as she folded into a crease. The possibilities were spiraling in her mind until she heard a noise.

The squeaking of the stairs.

Panic swallowed her whole at the realization. The steps approaching were heavy and loud, and she knew that it wasn't Lily coming up. She looked around frantically, searching for a place to hide. Why did the room have such a small selection of furniture? Her eyes sought the bed, urging her to sprint towards it. She dove beneath the wooden frame, squeezing her body as she scrambled to cover herself. It was a good thing she was small. There she lay on her stomach, clutching the map in her hands and her eyes staring wide at the room before her. She anticipated his arrival.

Seconds after her getaway, Emma heard the heavy footsteps trudge along the hallway. Her body tensed with every oncoming step, dreading Connor's presence. Before long, the sight of his buckskin boots appeared in his doorway. A great silence filled Emma's ears as she looked on, her focus and terror consuming all of her consciousness. Her nerves stirred wildly in her stomach and her breathing became ragged and short.

She watched as he took his first steps. They walked a few feet straight ahead of him before stopping again. It was as if he were inspecting the room. Emma prayed that he didn't notice the rug's displacement or even the book she left on the desk. Regret occupied her mind. How could she have not thought about the book before she ran? If he saw that, then he would know something wasn't right.

Connor's feet turned and started for the bed. Emma's eyes widened even more and her heart raced as he came closer. His steps thudded loudly in his approach, affirming the solidity of his form. She tightened all of her muscles in anticipation and hoped that he would not by any means look beneath his bed. When he stopped before it, she held her breath.

He just stood there, shifting slightly as he cast his weapons and bags upon the bed. Emma felt the impact of each item, wincing after his throws. She tensed at the fear of him staying in the room. If he did, then she would have to remain as motionless and silent as she was for hours. Only of course, if he didn't catch her before then.

After his supplies were free of him, he stood absolutely still. Emma could hear him take in and release a deep breath. She watched as he continued to remain in his stance, as if he were staring at his bed. It must have been tiring to work all day as he had, especially in the stormy conditions. The thought of sleep probably lured him into the possibility of hunkering down for the night, and Emma hoped that wouldn't be the case for reality. She wanted to have him gone, even for the briefest moment just so she could scram out of there before someone found her missing. Things didn't look like they were going to happen that way though. She waited for him to crawl into his bed.

But he didn't. To her surprise, Emma saw Connor's boots turn and walk away. She watched as they made their way towards the door, and then exited completely. His footsteps echoed loudly behind him, and Emma could make out that he was going to another room far down the hallway. Was this her chance?

Yes. She waited momentarily to confirm that he wasn't coming straight back. Then she squeezed out of the dark hideout and scrambled towards the door. Right before she reached it, the desk caught her eye. There upon the table surface sat the mysterious assassin book. A conflict arose in her as she realized that she needed to put it back where she found it, and hide the evidence of her invasion. It wouldn't take that long to do, it only stood a few yards away.

She jogged over to it, minding the corner of the rug. Her hand grabbed the drawer knob and pulled it open with more force than she attended. Then she picked up the book and nearly slammed it into its place of holding. With a push of both of her hands, the drawer closed and she turned to continue her exit. As her eyes fell on the doorway, her heart stopped.

Connor stood at the entrance, looking at Emma with a deathly glare. He was in his white robes as usual, minus the weapons around his belt, but still looked fierce as ever. She forgot how big he was, with his tall height and broadness. His hood was down, exposing his copper face and ember eyes, which centered right on her.

At the sight of him, Emma let out a small shriek and nearly tumbled backwards. She backed up towards the desk, her hands barely catching the edge. Once she caught her balance, she stared at him with wide and piercing eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked ruggedly.

Emma remained silent. She only looked back with fear and caution.

"Why is it that you are here?" He urged again. "Is there something you seek?"

A few moments passed before Emma responded. "No. I was just leaving."

Connor shifted his stance and looked into her eyes questioningly. Fear and distrust reflected in them as he could see her body stiffen. His eyes reached her left hand and saw a crinkled piece of paper in its clutches.

"What do you hold in your hand?"

"Nothing, its mine."

He lifted his head and tilted it to its side. Curiosity and suspicion emitted from his gaze. He thought about what Achilles suspected of her and couldn't help but think that the old man might have been right. She stood there in his room uninvited and apparently also looking through his belongings. His eyes narrowed at her.

"Prove to me that what you say is true. Reveal the document."

Emma swallowed and blinked in discomfort. She was unsure of what to do at this moment, as she knew he would recognize the paper if she did what he asked. There was nothing to arm herself with, no chairs, knives, or even a decent lie. Her mind searched for a solution, aligning the rapid pace of the heart in her chest. A shallow breath was let out as her eyes looked down to the floor. Right then, she found her solution.

She raised her head and looked into his malicious gaze. "You'll have to come and get it."

Without another word, Connor took strides forward. His fists balled at his sides and his expression teamed with intent towards her challenge. Emma clutched the desk tighter behind her and started to cringe by his oncoming approach. She eyed the floor once more, hoping with all of her might that her plan would work. He came closer and closer. She shut her eyes in anticipation of being knocked to the floor, but then a great noise sounded in her ears.

CRASH!

Emma opened her eyes and found that her plan had succeeded. A few feet before her lay Connor, his back on the floor and a foot caught in the great hole she made earlier. He groaned in pain as he started to lift himself up.

At that moment, Emma didn't have a second to lose. She took the opportunity and made a run for it. She clutched the map in her hand, pushed off of the desk, and darted to the bedroom door. Her feet barely dodged Connor's reach as she ran, and she could hear him curse in some other language.

As she left the entrance, her right hand caught the door knob behind her. She turned to face it, eyeing Connor as she swung the door to a close. He was standing up, starting to pursue her once more. The door slammed and released thundering clap throughout the house. Emma figured that the obstacle would allow her more time to flee from Connor.

She continued to scramble away, sprinting hard to the stairwell. Her hand wrapped around the wooden banister as she turned to go down. The adrenaline rushed through her body as she flew, causing her to nearly slip upon the hardwood steps. She could feel fear and nervousness punch the inside of her core.

Just as she reached halfway down, she heard Connor's door fly open. Booming and swift steps ensued from the enraged native as he made his way down the stairs. When she heard him coming after her, she jumped over some steps and landed roughly onto the main floor. She ran straight to the front door and practically rammed herself against it. Her hand twisted and pulled on the knob but found that it wouldn't budge open; it was locked for the night. Hearing Connor charging behind her, she yelled in frustration and let it go. She continued to run away, turning around and barreling down the long hallway that led to the other side of the house.

The back door stood directly at the end of the hall, but Emma dared not try to proceed through it. He would catch her if she stopped for a brief moment, and it was probably locked too. So as she neared the hallway's end, an open room caught her eye to the right. She turned sharply into it and found that it was the kitchen. It was empty of people but had a large wooden table in the exact center that stood before a large fireplace. She reached for the table and ran towards its far end. A large knife lay upon its surface and she grabbed it without any reluctance. With her back to the fireplace and the knife in her hand, she stood at the far end and looked at the entrance that welcomed her pursuer. "Stop right there!"

Connor looked at her in anger. Regret filled him as he noted Emma's threat and realized that he didn't have any weapons on him. He decided to walk slowly towards her.

"I said stop!" she barked at him. "I'll throw this at you!"

He believed that; it wasn't the first time she had threatened to throw a dangerous weapon at him and then did. But this time he didn't listen to her; he continued to walk before stopping at the table. He placed his hands upon the surface.

There the two stared at each other in the firelight, rage and hostility venting from their gazes. They both panted from their short lived chase and no words filled the air. Fire ignited in Connor's ember eyes and he clenched his teeth behind a staunch expression. Emma returned with an icy gaze, her ashen eyes piercing him venomously below furrowed brows. The tension between them brewed thick in the air, and the balance of the situation hung delicately. It would be several moments before anyone spoke.

"Put the knife down." Connor demanded angrily. "Or I'll have to-"

"What, restrain me?" Emma snapped at him. "I'm the one holding the weapon, so I'd like to see what would happen."

Connor's nose twitched with frustration. "Are you so ignorant of the means of civility? Can you not comply with me for at least once?

"No I can't, actually." Emma replied. "Not after how you've been treating me."

Connor scoffed. "So you mean how I've taken you into my own home and let you be cared after?"

"I'm talking about your spying." She returned. "I know you've been watching me. Observing day and night as if_ I'm_ the enemy here."

"Are you not?" he asked incredulously. "Taking things that do not belong to you, does that suggest your innocence?"

"Maybe I wouldn't have to sneak around if you were actually trustworthy! All you do is watch over me like I'm some sort of prey."

He let out an impatient exhale before answering. "I have been monitoring you, but not for what you may believe."

"Then for what?" Emma shrilled. "If not for desire or money; any kind of personal gain at all, what else?"

"I am not that kind of man."

"You are a dangerous man!" Emma spat with a pounded fist on the table. "I have every good reason to be holding this blade in my hands. Prove me otherwise and then, will I listen to you! But as for now, I'm not letting go of anything."

Fury cultivated in Connor's chest. His cheeks started to flush and his nostrils flared in frustration. Temptation called to him as he desired to overpower her and force the knife away. He had enough of her childish behavior, with all of her stubbornness and ever so persistent noncompliance. If he restrained her, perhaps she would finally comply with him.

Before Connor could move another muscle, a loud rapping came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder and found the old man standing in the entrance, knocking his cane against the wooden paneling. He limped eagerly to the table.

"I'm sorry to intrude," Achilles started. "But I couldn't help but overhear all of the running and screaming." He faced Emma. "And considering the delicate state of this scenario, I have no choice but to interfere in this engagement." His voiced rose as he looked to Connor. "As I have found that some of us cannot obey our instructions and give the proper treatment to our guests! Enough of this folly!"

Emma kept her knife held high at the old man's words. She looked at Achilles, despite his focus on Connor, but then shifted her gaze towards the native again. He gave a sidelong glance to his mentor at his scolding, but continued to stare Emma down. Hostility and even hatred beamed from the golden flecks in his eyes and his forehead creased with aggravation. Emma in turn glinted back at him with distrust as she narrowed her eyes. A hard line formed out of her mouth and contempt radiated from all of her being. She too, wanted the folly to end, but Connor's most of all.

"So tell me," Achilles said urgently to his apprentice. "What is the issue at hand?"

Connor answered without taking his eyes off of her. "A single document. I caught her stealing it from my desk."

Emma grasped the map even tighter and sharpened her glare on Connor.

Achilles faced her. "Miss Maywood," he said sternly. "Would you please show us what you have taken?"

"It is not yours!" She cried in protest. "It's mine and I've claimed it back."

The old man studied her for a moment. She could feel his brown eyes search for answers on her. "I would like to believe your words but proof is needed to support your claim." His temper toned down. "If what you say is true, then we can leave this situation peacefully. "

Emma didn't like this request. This was the moment she dreaded facing, one that would force her to reveal not only a map but the fact that she knew something about scattered goods hidden among Colonial lands. The map was externally vague in its purpose, but the presence of it alone suggested the strong notion of her knowing valuable information. She knew in this moment that she was caught, as she already admitted that what she had in her hand belonged to her. If she revealed the map to the two men, not only could they proceed with forced interrogation on her, they could find the hoards, take the treasures, or even hurt her family. None of those things were what she wanted, but on the other hand, she found that she didn't have a choice. She couldn't run from this situation, and she knew even more so that if she didn't comply then the paper would forced away from her, which would still lead to an unfortunate end.

She stared coldly at her hosts. The thoughts of her impending doom swirled in her head and reflected visibly on the expression on her face. Her gaze switched over to her knife, which she gripped tighter, and saw how the blade gleamed in the firelight. Temptation to use it and run called to her, but she knew that she would most likely not make it far. She lowered it's stance in the air but kept it pointed upward towards her potential attacker. Then she stepped back a foot and let out a shaky breath. Her grey eyes centered back on Connor before she finally spoke.

"I can't." She swallowed dry air. "I can't do as you ask."

Connor grunted angrily. He shifted his position to start coming after her. However, Achilles threw his cane at the native's leg, forbidding him to proceed with his action. "Wait, Connor." The old man said rigidly. "I have one more proposition."

He slowly limped towards Emma before stopping to an arm's length away from her. Her eyes met his brown ones as they faced one another. "I will offer you one last chance," he said steadily, "Or I will let this man come after you."

Emma glanced at Connor, seeing how it took a great amount of control for him to remain in his place. It would probably be the end for her if his wrath was casted upon her.

"Join Connor and I in the dining room this evening and let us sit and discuss this matter. I can see that there is more than one side to this story and it would be wise to hear it."

Emma looked suspiciously at his invitation. It would give her a chance to explain herself but it also placed her at a vulnerable position strategically in her and Connor's mind game.

"And who knows?" he continued. "Perhaps a misunderstanding has befallen us and we are yet to resolve it. I'm certain that we are not the only ones here who have questions."

Her eyes flashed alarmingly at his words. Even though her suspicion was obvious by her visible distrust towards them, she didn't think he would be so inclined to draw upon them from her audibly. Plus, he was right, she did have questions but not to be shared aloud. She shifted uncomfortably and looked downward.

Achilles caught on to her uncertainty nudged forward. "Miss Maywood," he peered into her eyes, "This is not a difficult decision. You can come with me and have a civilized discussion, where you shall be treated as a guest still. Or.." He looked towards Connor. "You can face him."

Emma sent a defiant glare at the native. He stood there staring at her with rage composing all of his being, showing his desire to manifest his anger upon her. She knew that she had provoked him to this point but she believed that she had every right to do so since it meant more protection for herself. At this moment, however, she realized that she couldn't protect herself much more. She was caught in their trap now, unless she really wanted to fight Connor. Though she had a weapon on her, she doubted whether it would do much good against his fury.

She took the few steps that were between her and the table. The knife lowered gently in the air until it lay flat on the table once more. Emma looked to Connor again and studied his impending wrath. The wise choice was obvious before her and she hated it with all of her being. No matter her feelings, however, she had to select it. She turned her head and looked straight into Achilles' consuming dark eyes, gazing in distasted submission. "Fine. I'll go with you."

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Lillian Mellark-Kenway: Thank you for loving my last post! xD I wanted to incorporate the depth of Connor's feelings so I'm glad that you enjoyed that! And I'm sorry if the character, Lily, makes you feel weird considering your own name xD I've always loved that name and wanted to use it in this story. :D Friends are weird when it comes to names, but wear yours proud whether you're called Lilian or Lily! Its beautiful :)

XxXSmiles101XxX: Hi! :D I'm sorry that I didn't post so soon after you commented. I hope you like this one though!

South-Africa 101: You're welcome and I'm glad that you liked the replying! I like to do so, as it makes writer-fan interaction stronger and because I love meeting and learning about people. Its amazing as it is to have readers comment on my story (I mean it literally means the world to me) so getting a chance to say thank you and stuff is really cool :)

Eager Reader: You're welcome :) I'm really happy that you like the chapter and this story overall xD Thanks for saying that it makes you want to read more. One of my biggest fears for this story is to have my readers lose interest due to boringness. I don't like boring stories either, I'm all for adventure when it comes to entertainment. I know this story has had a lot of long going descriptions on feelings and such but I'm doing my best to make it relevant and interesting. One of my main focuses is to make sure that this story is consistently entertaining. I'm super excited to write of the events ahead from this point of the story and I hope that you will continue to like it! Thank you for your patience :)

PSAfrikaans: Namibia?! That's awesome! Hello from the USA :) Its so cool to learn of where everybody's from and seeing that a story can be shared around the world :O Thank you for your review and you're welcome for my reply haha xD As I told another reader, I love talking to people and I think that replying to readers is the least I can do since you all take the time to read and then comment on it. Its an honor for me! :D Also don't worry about what you can say on here. Tell me whatever you want, even if it is something like "Hurry up!" or whatever. XD I'm not offended by that. I appreciate your consideration towards me as you say that you promise to not ask when the next chapter is going to be posted :) But please, say what you want, I don't mind at all :) unless its like hate messages..then I'll be concerned xD Criticism, praise, questions, imploring, randomness...be free to speak! :)

FALLING-ANGEL24: I'm so happy that you like my style and the chemistry between Emma and Connor. I know things at the moment are tense between them but the future is rather bright so thanks for being eager towards that :) I hope that this story will remain "amazing" as you say and interesting to you!


	12. Chapter 14

Hey everyone! Happy New Year! Its been crazy so far for me; hopefully its been smoother for you guys! For some of you, this chapter has been anticipated so I'm really hoping that it fulfills your soul :D Happy reading.

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_A Dark Discussion_

_Davenport Homestead: January 1774_

The room was dark when Emma followed Achilles into the dining hall. Wide, spacious, and nevertheless quite long, it stood dauntingly before her. The great fireplace that rested on the wall on the left hand side was pitted in darkness, robbing the air of light and splendid warmth. Few candles hung upon the walls with idle flames, dimming into the reaching hours of the night. Furniture stood motionless in the center of the room, their outlines black with silence and vacancy.

Emma looked apprehensively at the scene before her. It was unsettling to know that she was going to linger in the dark within a strange room of the house, but even more so in the company of men she considered enemies. She truly didn't know what to expect from them in the ensuing moments, whether they would keep their promise of civility or not. Achilles seemed inclined to do so but Connor appeared otherwise.

Her head turned slightly over her shoulder. In her gaze she caught Connor standing behind her in the doorway, watching her with a narrowing focus. The sight unnerved her and sent a chill in her spine. Not wanting to meet his eyes, she quickly turned her head back around and continued to follow the hobbling old man into the room.

Before long, they encountered a great table. Achilles stopped before the end captain chair and waited for Emma to appear on his right. She assumed to take the first chair on that side and hovered nervously beside it, awaiting her next order. Both of their eyes met.

"Please sit down," the old man ushered with an open hand. "I'll make for better accommodations in here." He turned his head and called out behind him. "Connor! Would you bring a lantern with you? I believe there's one hanging on the wall there."

Connor obeyed his mentor and turned to fetch the lantern. Emma watched as he quickly did as he was told and listened to his footsteps fade away. The sight of him gone brought some relief to her, and she let out a sharp exhale.

Achilles' eyes locked on her. She soon noticed and returned with an alarmed glance.

"No need for nerves, Miss Maywood," he said as he pulled out the chair. "We're simply going to converse like the everyday people we are. Talk about the ordinary things, nothing spectacular."

Emma began to take her seat. "I understand."

"I should hope so," he said more to himself. "An honest man has nothing to fear, correct?"

"Yes."

"I should also add," he continued. "If we're going to act civilized for this conversation, then we will certainly be as civil as possible. However," His tone lowered. "If there is ever a moment that should cause us to become uncivilized, we will, Miss Maywood," he said darkly. "Do you understand?"

She looked into his brown eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Good."

Connor walked in urgently. A lighted lantern lay at his hand as he walked over in heavy but smooth strides. Emma tensed at the sight of him and watched as he walked over to Achilles' left side. He went passed the first chair and placed the lantern down gently on the table. It stood in between the three of them but placed a little farther down so they could all face one another without a hindrance. As the lantern was placed, Connor shifted his gaze onto Emma. His eyes set directly on her as he pushed his chair back and took his seat. Once joining the other two at the table, he locked his hands upon the surface and stared with a similar contempt he bore in the kitchen moments before. The ember in his eyes still glowed with a fury, though tamed to a lesser degree, and focused on her with absolute attention. His expression was still strained, hardened with suspicion and scorn.

She looked back with a softer look. Her grey eyes studied him with caution but also lay perplexed in fear. Control was no longer in her reach in this situation and she feared that it would be her ultimate downfall. Achilles seemed confident in his plan of a conversation and Connor even more so in his muscle power and intimidation. She didn't have anything to offer herself protection with at this point and she looked rather pathetic in the game play. Cornered, pressured, and soon to be interrogated, she might as well of forfeited.

Achilles studied the two young adults from the head of the table. Like Connor, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together upon the surface and looked ahead in sharp intent. His mouth formed a line and his brown eyes searched lively underneath his thick grey brows. Silence was held in the air between the three of them until he decided to finally speak.

"Originally, I wanted this scene to look different," he began. "I wanted it to be over dinner, during the light of the day, and through a more cordial setting. However," he faced Connor, "Things didn't go as planned; instructions were ignored and actions poorly executed. "

Connor gave a peeved glance at his mentor but soon returned his stare back to Emma.

"This situation has indeed gotten rather hostile," The old man continued. "Far from the picture I held for this scene regarding courteousness and welcomed reception. I didn't plan for it all to skew as it has done but I see now that there is no way to avoid it." He then turned to face Emma. "The pretenses are different now, and I think you would agree. Tempered passions have been shown to one another tonight and it is clear that suspicions hang in the air between the three of us. What I wish to accomplish now is to possibly eliminate, if not resolve our uncertainties at this table tonight." His gaze seemed to harden over her. "But, we are going to skip the common practices of flowery talk and spurious affections and get right to the core of our questions. That being said, I am going to begin with you, Miss Maywood." He said more sternly. "As I am your host and you being a stranger in my home it is only fair that I ask of you firstly." He shifted in his seat so he could face her directly. "Who is it you say you are?"

Emma blinked at the given question. It felt too big for her to answer, no matter where the simple truth lay towards her identity. She was afraid to give them the truth, as it revealed her family and Swayde's smuggling operation. But she couldn't entirely lie either, since Connor knew certain things. She wished she could give the truth, as it would have been simpler to do that than to feed them a string of lies. Giving lies only meant more work for her, as she would have to keep up with them. Though in the end, she knew that she had compromise her comfort for the safety of her family. The true problem lay in how she would do that; what story she would use. In her experience of disguising, she never had to really explain herself to someone, but just gave a mere statement and then got to work. Now she had to be elaborate and consistent, and the thought left her clueless. Her mind scanned for words as she felt the pressure of both men staring at her.

"I come from Boston." She began hoarsely. "I grew up there and worked as a deckhand."

"You worked alongside men?" Achilles asked.

Emma nodded at the sudden interjection. "I posed as a boy and made my living working on the docks and aiding with shipments."

"I see." The old man looked in curiosity. "And when you met Connor, you were doing that?"

"Yes, it's the only trade I know."

"Hm." He studied her. "And who did you work for?"

Emma froze and thought momentarily before answering. "I never worked under a single man for a long period of time. I was always changing employers."

"You never worked under the same man consistently?" Achilles raised his eyebrows. "What about your mentor?"

"I never had one."

The old man blinked in amazement."So you managed to learn an entire trade without the guidance of a teacher?"

She regretted her previous answer. "Actually I didn't rely on just one person," Emma tried to save herself. "As I changed employers, I received all different kinds of teaching."

"That's interesting." Achilles looked down and dwindled his fingers. "Quite the tale, you have."

"Yep." Emma attempted a smile. "It's been quite the life."

He gave her a narrow glance. "I myself happen to be a teacher."

"Really?" Emma said genuinely surprised. "What do you teach?"

"I know a lot of trades," he said honestly. "I can teach a person to farm, smith metals, or build a house." He looked over to his apprentice. "Connor has been working for me for years now."

Emma looked over at the native. He remained perfectly still, concentrating on her. A shadow from the darkness of the room fell on some of his face, making his hard expression even more menacing than usual. She thought about what Achilles had just said and became reluctant to believe that the frightening man before her was just a laborer working the lands around him. She had seen his skill in fighting so there had to be more to him than that.

"If I may continue,"Achilles started again, "I would like to return the focus to you."

Emma looked back to him and swallowed. "Okay."

He gave a light smile. "So you've had an eclectic life, it seems. No apprenticeship, just work."

"Yes." She tried to return the expression.

"Yes." He kept his folded hands still as he looked at her. "Quite the tale, quite the hardship, really. Makes me wonder how a person like you handles it all."

Emma flinched at the remark. His negative connotation was unexpected and she could only furrow in confusion. "I don't understand."

The old man allowed a few moments of contemplation before answering."Forgive my frankness Miss Maywood, but knowing that we are both people of color, may I say that I would've expected you to say otherwise." He studied her face. "Considering your skin tone and even more so your gender, I would've expected that you would need to be under someone's constant protection in order to find work so often."

Emma sensed interrogation in his comment. "Then you would be wrong. It's not as difficult as you think; I've been able to pull off this disguise all of my life and get hired."

"Perhaps I am." The old man tilted his head. "I don't question your costuming abilities, and I have no doubts in believing that deception has become a master craft to you."

Her grey eyes narrowed at him.

"But even if you worked as often as you say, why the need to change employers? And so frequently? Isn't it better to maintain the security of a single job?"

Emma's mind clamored for a response. "Well," she struggled, "Maybe its because nobody has ever taken me seriously. Not a single employer has been fair to me; I'd work for them for awhile and then they would get abusive."

Achilles stared at her face for several moments. Soon his dark hard face cracked with laughing lines. "Abusive? Because of your skin color?"

She gave him a puzzled look, trying to understand his reaction. "Yes, that's exactly right."

"No, Miss Maywood it's not," he smiled downward. "Try again."

"I'm sorry?"

"Try again." He said grimly. "Give me something else to believe."

Emma leaned back in her chair and gaped at him. "I just gave you-"

"You gave me a weak explanation." He looked coolly into her eyes. "I know that people of color aren't treated with a great respect around here, but white employers are smarter than to abuse every nonwhite they see, or should be anyway. If an African, a native, or even a Spaniard or Italian came and offered their service, the employer would be wise and nevertheless eager to hire them. More aid means more money at a quicker rate; that's the philosophy of merchants. And though there are cases of cruelty among them, do not think that I will believe it when you say that _all_ of them abused you in your life, and _especially_ for the sake of just your skin color."

She blinked in disbelief.

"No," he laughed. "Do not think me ignorant of life at sea. All deckhands of every skin color, even white, get harsh treatment from their employers. In fact, some of these employers are men of color and have their own enterprise." He pointed to her. "You should have said that you were abused because of your gender, it would better explain your cause for constant change."

Emma felt anxiety built up inside her. She was afraid that her poor story, though unplanned, was failing her as she longed feared, and would lead her to her doom. Mercy towards her lied solely on the men before her and so she had to speak carefully. However, she struggled with her emotions as frustration was starting to come through. Would this man continue to interrogate her as he had done, and shoot her down at every chance she spoke? She would let the aggravation filter her mouth.

"Why would I lie about something so traumatic and personal?"

"Because whatever you're hiding is personal." He shot at her. "You're trying to protect something, and that is fine; we all have secrets. But I'm coming very close to distrusting you completely, so I'm giving you another chance to redeem yourself. For the following questions, please give logical responses."

Anger set over her eyes as she glared at him.

"Now," he returned focus, "Tell me who you work for."

"I already told you, I don't work for a single person." She persisted.

"I'm talking about recent times. Who do you currently work for?"

"No one!"

"Oh so you're not hired at the moment?" he mused at her. "How convenient."

"You don't believe me?"

"Not as much as I'd like to," Achilles replied. "You're not making it very difficult."

Emma remained silent.

"But let's assume that you are telling the truth," he started again, "and therefore I will respond in kind by saying that unemployment must be difficult to go through."

She dismissed his fake sympathy. "Yep."

"But then again, finding anymore work isn't a hardship for you, as it's supposedly never been."

She nearly gritted her teeth in annoyance as she responded. "No. But it's still hard to survive when everyone seems to be against you."

"I can understand that."Achilles admitted truthfully. "Making your place in the world is a terrible business."

She continued to look at him.

"So in summary," he resumed, "you have never had a teacher, never worked under the same person for a long period of time, and you currently don't have a job now. Well, whenever you get the chance to work, where do you find most of it?

"Nowhere," Emma responded quickly. "I mean, it's never in the same place, I get hired all over the docks-"

_SLAM!_

Emma turned and faced the abrupt sound. It came from Connor, spite filled and annoyed, with his fist balled on the table. Anger flushed his face as his eyes glared at her, heavy with rage at her false words.

"It is all a lie."

Emma felt uneasy under his glower. "What?"

"You speak in lies!" He looked on to her. "You cannot hide anything from me, have you forgotten of our relation in Boston? You and I were enemies, men trying to avenge each other's charges." His voice was rough. "I followed you so I could keep my sights on you, especially after I learned that you were after me as well."

Emma's nose crinkled in annoyance."I was only after you because you chased me first!" She shot back. "All for a stupid piece of paper."

"Not only did I want the document you possessed," Connor continued almost sneeringly. "Or even wanted to punish you for your _relentless_ provoking," He grit his teeth and scowled. "I wanted to bring an end to you."

She glared in his fury.

"Do not think that I know nothing about you," his tone was rigid and slow. "I know more than you think."

Anger flushed in Emma's face. Her eyes widened at his words and nervousness pumped throughout her body with the quickening pace of her heart. She couldn't believe his words, but at the same time, she truly knew of what he was saying. She had known long before that he knew some vital information about her, but facing it directly felt astonishing and she didn't think about him calling her out on her lies. The present story she gave was shattered now.

"I told you to be more careful, Miss," Achilles reminded her. "Or you'd get caught." He faced the third member of the table. "Connor, why don't you elaborate on what you know?"

The native finally removed his eyes off of Emma and looked to his mentor. "My first instigation towards this woman began in Boston, on the day of the tea protest. Sam Adams asked me to provide protection for him and his men as they all disposed the tea into the harbor from British soldiers. She happened to be a participant."

"Now that is a lie!" Emma yelled. "We first met along the Southern port, where you chased me down into a residential lot and threatened to kill me!"

"I did not say that we first _met_ then." He said degradingly while turning to her. "That was when I first started to collect knowledge towards you and had begun an investigation."

She scoffed and glanced to the side.

"An associate of hers eagerly came up to me and Sam Adams and revealed her location." He continued to Achilles. "The day afterward I went to where he said and found her along the Southern ports, on a ship known as the Virginia Dare."

At the sound of the name, she cast a startled look to him.

"I had wished to reach her and take the document away but some events prevented me from doing so." He glared at her, referencing to the many chases between them. "So I had to watch her for a few days. I came to find that she had indeed belonged to a trade, port, crew, and ship, which she lingered on for several days. All she says tonight is false."

Emma tightened her fists in vexation beneath the table. She leaned in now, staring at her accuser with a scowl enwrapped with hatred. Though she had many things to say, she couldn't form the words at her mouth. She just breathed in and out with rage, wishing she could somehow hurt the man who caused her all of this trouble.

"Miss Maywood," Achilles infiltrated the momentary silence. "If what Connor says is true, perhaps this is the time for you to-"

"To what?" She blurted at the old man. "What is it you exactly want here? A confession or something?" She looked over the both of them, her eyes searching them for motives. "Stop with the questions! Just say what you want from me!"

Achilles looked back at her in silence. Hysteria riddled her voice and in her expression he could see genuine fear. He had intended to break her mentally, so that she could reveal her motives or at least her loyalties. At this point, none of those things had been clear to him, other than the fact that she was indeed hiding something. Yet the way she had presented her case looked anything but professional, which would have been unusual for a Templar spy. In fact, in her grey eyes he could see the essence of innocence and sincerity; strange characteristics for his long declared enemies.

He sighed before speaking rather calmly. "You've stolen something from us, Miss Maywood," his hands remained together. "And we would like it back."

She scoffed. "You want only the paper? Seems like there's more to it than that. But even still, I won't give it back." She said coldly. "Not until I know what's really going on here."

Achilles looked questioningly towards her. "I told you already that we only want the document to be returned. Besides, do not think us strange, we are but common men, living ordinary lives-"

"I'm not the one lying here." She accused. "You are not common men, you're much more. At least that one is." She nodded to Connor. "He is skilled and dangerous and cunning. Don't have me believe that he is just some labor worker, because I know he's not." Her eyes narrowed at him again. "He brought me for a reason and wants something greater from me."

Connor started to protest. "That is not-"

"Wait, Connor." Achilles said before turning back to Emma. "All we care about is the paper in your possession. We'd like to know why you want it but we would ultimately just like it back."

Emma looked frighteningly over both men. Silence fell between them. Panic and nervousness had been building up in her core, and it nearly consumed her entire being. She didn't know what to say anymore or even what to do. Her breathing quickened at the thought of her situation. She just felt like she was shrinking beneath their cold stares, and she was nearly lost as prey. The game seemed to be ending, and she couldn't grasp it anymore.

Her head turned over her shoulder. The front entry hall stood empty in a clear path before her. The burgundy front door stood silently in the candlelight, as if calling her to aid..

"Do not even think about it." Connor warned gruffly. "I will catch you before you get the chance to leave."

She looked back to him. He was more on edge now, ready to fly after her if she did what he suspected. His ember eyes flickered with forewarning towards her and she could see that he was serious about his threat. His menace struck a fear in her heart, and it fed into a vicious longing for her to get away. Too long had she been interrogated, and too long had she been placed a captive. Surely not much better would be promised in the future.

She slid her hands to the table's underside. Her eyes continued to center on Connor as she pressed her palms against a jutting beam. She readied her feet silently into a raised stance, balancing them on her toes. With all of her ability she tried to make herself appear motionless, trying to conceal her current idea. Then when all her muscles tensed in place, an exhale escaped through her nose.

With a sudden push, Emma threw herself backwards. The chair she sat in screeched against the hardwood floor and the table groaned at the force. She spun around as quick as she could, setting her sights on the front door and throwing the chair aside. Her legs scrambled towards the entrance with all of their capability. Connor reacted immediately, jumping out of his chair and running after her. He went around Achilles before following her direct path. He expected no less from her.

Soon her body slammed against the front door. Her fingers shook as she reached for the latch, messily undoing the lock. She could hear him coming and the nerves punched harder within her with every approaching step. Her breathing was shallow and heart racing in fear.

She successfully undid the latch and reached for the knob. Her hand twisted it and tried to thrust the door open, but the door remained it it's frame. Her eyes searched for an explanation and soon despair would fill her. She spotted another locked latch located further down.

Hands clasped onto her arms.

"No!" she cried in protest. "Let me go! I need to get away!"

Connor spun her around and made her face him. "That is enough!" he roared. "No more fighting or running! You are going to finish the discussion!"

Emma stared into the fire in his eyes. "No! Get off of me!"

He nearly constricted her arms as he pulled her away from the door. The force caused some pain in Emma's biceps. She continued to fight however, flailing and squirming violently in his clutches. He caught every punch and kick she threw, and ignored every cry. She became bound together in his arms as he lifted her up and carried her back into the dining room.

The sight of the old man and the table brought dread to her. She didn't want to be a part of the scene any longer, so she fought harder, kicking and screaming with more might. It would all cease however, after she felt herself get thrown into a chair at the table. Her arms were forced behind it, causing her hands to be inaccessible. There Connor held them tightly, affirming her captivity to him once more. Then he released the hidden blade in his right sleeve and pressed the cold blade against her neck. She silenced and froze at the sensation.

"No more resistance." Connor hissed at her. "You will cooperate or this night will be your last."

She swallowed at his words.

"Easy, Connor." Achilles said. "I think she knows what's at stake.

The native removed the blade off of her neck but still kept it nearby. Emma saw it glint in the lantern light.

"…she won't be foolish enough to disobey again."

She lifted her head to the old man. She could see now that she was sitting in Connor's chair, facing Achilles on his left side. He looked tenser now, as if he too had enough of her opposition. On his dark and wrinkled face lay an unmerciful glower. His brown eyes glinted narrowly under the shadow of his hat and his lips pursed with disapproval beneath his thick grey mustache. This was a side of him she didn't like seeing.

Achilles, on the other hand, was seeing a different picture. Though as disappointed as he was with her, he didn't fail to see her emotion. Her tan face looked directly to him, her ashen eyes piercing him wide with fear and distrust. Her dark hair lay messily around her face, adding a wild and desperate element to her composure. However despairing she looked, he decided not to reserve much sympathy for her. He still had many questions for her to answer.

After staring at her for a few moments, he stood up slowly. Then after giving Connor a glance, he walked behind his chair and nudged it closer to Emma with his good foot. She watched as he slowly moved it towards her. Then when it sat no more than a foot away from her, the old man limped to the front and took his seat once more. Emma turned her head to the side to face him, feeling uneasy as he leaned his condescending glare closer to her.

"I told you, Miss Maywood,"Achilles started coldly, "That if any action should cause us to be uncivilized, we would be. You have taken us there and that is why you are restrained as you are."

Her nose twitched.

"Now, we don't intend to hurt you or even hold you here for much longer. We just ask that you answer my questions. Truthfully," he spat. "Can you do that?"

She thought of the blade. "Mm-hmm."

"Good," he purred. "Now listen carefully," he shifted in his seat. "Answer the following questions wisely. If you provide the answers we are not looking for, you will surely pay the price. We will tolerate no more lies."

Her eyes rounded in fear at his warning. What could she say to please this mysterious old man, at the while saving herself from any harm or torture? The words she used so far had proven unsuccessful, how would she make them any better? Her stomach dropped at the anticipation.

Achilles placed his hand on his cane."Are you, Miss Maywood of Boston," he drew out, "associated at all in the schemes, plots, or relations of the Templar brotherhood?"

Emma stiffened at the unfamiliarity. Her eyes searched him steadily in confusion."What?"

"Are you pursuing the mission of structure and order across these lands?" He asked more sternly. "Do you aid in the brotherhood's aspiration towards a controlled society forged by exclusive ordained powers and the suppression of the will of people?"

"What are you talking about?" Emma asked incredulously. "I have no idea-"

"Are you not currently working under the instructions and authority of Haytham Kenway, Grand Master of the colonial order?"

"I don't know what you're saying!" Emma cried. "I have never heard of a Templar-"

"Do not lie to me!"

"I'm not lying!" She shouted as the frustration and panic welled in her eyes. "I'm telling you, I have no idea what a Templar is or even know of the man you speak of! I'm just a deckhand!"

The old man's face twitched with anger at her response. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. He whacked her leg with his cane.

"Ah!"

"Try again."

"I'm telling the truth!" She winced at her newfound pain. "Look, all of my life I have worked on the southern docks for a friend of mine. Neither of us had any membership of any kind in a club or fellowship. That's all we've done, is work on ships and trade common goods."

"Then why keep your life so secret?" Achilles pushed. "Why did you have to lie to me tonight?"

"I wanted to protect my family!" She reasoned. "You are a stranger to me, why would I give you my whole identity?"

"You chose to steal from us," Connor joined in. "Then you tried to run."

"I was sure the paper was mine. I only wanted to take it back."

"Where is it now?" Achilles interjected.

Emma stared at him silently before eying her pants. "My front pocket."

Without a second more, Achilles leaned in and snatched the paper from her loose pocket. She watched in despair as he took the fragile parchment in his wrinkled hands and began to unfold it before his old eyes. It would look dim in the lantern light, and he squinted to make out it's content. He sat quietly for many moments, scanning every inch.

"What is it?" Connor asked.

The old man lowered the paper down and looked up to his apprentice. "It's a map," he stated curiously. "Are you familiar with this one?"

Connor removed one hand from his hold on Emma and grabbed the paper from Achilles. He too looked over it and studied its face. "Trinkets around Northern Boston. I collected this months ago."

Achilles returned his gaze to Emma. Though stern, his expression softened towards her. He leaned back in his seat. "Why do you want this map?"

She swallowed. "In my field, I work with many maps. An associate of mine told me that we had a certain set that had a few missing pieces. This map looked a lot like the pieces I have at home so I thought that I should take it back with me, so the set can be complete."

"Do you have the legal ownership over these documents?"

"No," she sighed.

"Does your associate?"

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. "But I really don't know."

Achilles snorted quietly as he continued to look to her. She could feel him studying her once more, as if verifying her words. The fury in his brown eyes was dissipating, reducing to a more downcast emotion. He looked back to Connor and shook his head.

"Oh…" the old man leaned back in his chair. "Such imprudence on my part."

Emma watched as he propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and rubbed his fingers against his temple in dismay. She waited for him to collect himself.

"Well, Miss Maywood," he began from his slumped angle. "I would've thought that you had stolen something more significant."

She searched his change of expression. "I don't understand."

"Out of all the antiques in this house, or even notable documents lying around here, you choose a map," he said in quiet amazement. "A single map." He looked back up to his apprentice. "Release her, Connor."

The native gaped at his mentor. "What?"

"I said release her!" the old man demanded. "She is not what we think."

"But what about-"

"Enough!" The old man scolded. "Be silent and do as you're told! Let her go."

Connor scowled at him before looking down to Emma. He roughly released her, pulling the knife back into his sleeve and shoving her hands away. The action startled her, but she felt relief as her arms subjected to gravity once more and as the blade disappeared. She lifted her hands into her lap, breathing raggedly, examining the dark impressions her captor left. As he walked past her to regain a seat across from her, she watched with disdain. Her glare would remain on him even as he sat and returned a look of distrust.

"My greatest apologies," Achilles said to Emma. "for our behavior, for our assumptions. I believe you are not what we originally thought you were."

"Which was what?" Emma concerned.

"The enemy." He stated plainly. "We thought you had more evil intentions than what you've shown."

Emma looked carefully at his remorse. "You thought me a spy?"

"I thought you as something much worse," he replied. "An undercover agent for one of the most cunning societies history has seen."

"A Temp-"

"A Templar, yes," he answered shamefully. "Alas, you are innocent, I suppose. A woman working in the stead of a man, just living her own life. You're excused for the night."

Emma looked at the old man completely confounded. She was surprised to learn that they too had suspected her with as much doubt as she had towards them. She was also puzzled at them for releasing her so soon. Could they too not be what she had expected?

She eyed Achilles in qualm, "I don't understand."

Achilles glanced in quizzically. "Pardon?"

"You're just gonna let me go like that?" she asked. "You'd drop this conversation so quickly? Even after seeing the map?"

"It feels only just to do so," he said in kind. "You're the one that has been wronged this night."

"Doesn't the map mean anything to you?" she asked more emphatically. "You're no longer mad about me trying to take it?"

"Well I'm not thrilled that you tried to steal from your host," he answered honestly, "But now knowing what it was and why you did, it means little to me now."

She studied his face bewilderedly. "I know these maps. I know where they lead to and certainly you can't say that they mean nothing."

"No, I don't doubt their value," he affirmed, "I'm sure they're quite useful."

"They're also rare," Emma added. "These papers are hard to find."

"They are not," Connor interrupted again. "They have never been difficult to obtain."

She gaped at the man across the table. "You have multiples of them?"

"Which is why we see this spectacle as something that's no longer significant, "Achilles interjected. "You were trying to take one of the many we have."

Emma looked down at the table. Her mind processed these answers, trying to bring clarity into the overall equation. These men not only had the some of the missing maps Julian told her about but also had access to their treasures. Even though some these hoards could possibly be owned by Swayde himself, she knew that some other men throughout the colonies had to have found them and claimed their goods. There would be nothing she could do about that anyways.

Also, at this point, Emma decided that she could feel less endangered by these men, as they decided to let their suspicions off of her. She revealed that she knew of the maps and even revealed that she and an associate had worked with them. To the average scavenger, she couldn't be more priceless of an asset to finding these hoards. She could give so much information regarding the maps and the goods, and nevertheless the operation behind them all. These men didn't hold that towards her, though. They chose to leave her alone. Her suspicions were haltering.

"Maps are a fickle matter, Miss Maywood," Achilles started again. "Tonight we presumed you were a spy that took an important document that could have revealed private information regarding myself or Connor." He looked coolly to her. "Yet, you've proven completely otherwise."

"You seriously don't hold anything against me?" she asked in disbelief.

"You're a terrible liar, miss," he noted lightly. "But you picked up the right document. You also composed yourself to be too raw; nothing like the calculated nature of my enemies."

She blinked in amazement at him. "What does this all mean, then?"

"Turns out, this is a great misunderstanding," Achilles said. "False pretenses and overwhelming suspicion. I apologize again for the wrongs we have done to you. Can you forgive us for our behavior?"

She felt uncomfortable with his sudden kindness. "Yeah..but what becomes of me now?"

"What already has been," he shifted in his seat to sit more upright. "You are to rest until you fully recover. You may stay as long as you like.

"That's all?" Emma asked again. "You don't want anything else to do with me?"

"Yes, that is correct." Achilles affirmed. "That is, unless, you truly wish for us to punish you for your crime?"

"No,"Emma assured him.

"I thought so," Achilles returned. "However I expect you to not take any more things from us. Shall you steal again, we will not restrain punishment."

She looked at her leg; she believed him. "I understand."

"Good." He gave a light smile. "Simply stay for the course of your healing."

Emma felt overwhelmed with emotion. Her mind spun, trying to comprehend all that had just happened. Confusion rocked her brain at her host's change of reaction to her. How could they truly not need her for anything else?

She looked to Achilles. Though he radiated less hostility, she hesitated her following words. "Is it possible for me to leave sooner than that?" She asked gingerly. "I can leave tomorrow morning."

"It is not possible." Connor inserted. "The storm is relentless and has caused a hindrance to any traveling."

Emma frowned at him. "What are you saying?"

"I am saying that you cannot leave," he said grimly. "Traveling is prohibited to all."

She blinked and turned to the old man. This was the last thing she wanted to hear.

"I'm afraid Connor's right."The old man sighed. "I had forgotten the storm. The hazardous conditions outside will not permit one through the mountain pass."

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Rest," Achilles reassured her. "Do as you should and let your healing continue. Perhaps by then, the storm will clear."

Emma looked to the windows. The world was dark outside, but she could hear the sound of the wind pressing against the glass. She had seen the white world outside from her window and knew of it's consumption. She doubted if the storm would disappear in a few days time. If that would be the case, then her stay would be long. She despaired at the thought being away from her family for so long.

"As for the night, Miss Maywood," Achilles started again. "You are free to go."

"What?"

"You are excused. Retire to bed and rid yourself of this talk and dreadful darkness."

Emma blinked. "Right. Good night, sir."

She rose from her chair, nearly scurried out of the room, and climbed up the stairs.

Silence fell in the dark dining hall. Connor and Achilles brooded motionless, sitting in their chairs while facing the lantern flame. The wind continued to press against the windows and the scattered candles melted slowly. Emma's door overhead could be heard closing.

At the sound, Connor got up from his seat, pulled it out, and pushed it closer to Achilles' chair. He sat back down and leaned in for exclusive conversing, his elbows propped onto his knees and hands folded together. He faced his mentor. "What were you thinking?" he scolded. "Releasing her like that? You cannot possibly trust her."

Achilles raised a hand as he spoke, "Connor, I realize-"

"I thought you wiser, old man." The native persisted. "Or nevertheless more tactful! You do not interrogate so lightly or rid of your suspicions so easily. If she was another man, you would not have let her go." He shook his head. "We still do not know much from her."

The old man sighed. "For now we know enough. What else are you inquiring about?"

"Her loyalties!" Connor exclaimed. "She may have claimed that she had no knowledge of the Templars but do you actually hold her true to her words?" His ember eyes narrowed in puzzlement. " Since when do you account people for only what they say?"

"I did not look at just her words, Connor." The old man defended from his seat. "I looked beyond that; her act was too sloppy, her emotions too natural. Not a hint of crafted deception, or a professional one at that."

"So you looked into her eyes for the answer?" Connor mocked. "Did you lose your rationality in their depths?"

"Control did not elude me in the conversation! I knew perfectly well of what I was doing."

Connor turned to the side and snorted at his remark."You are wrong. You miscalculated." He returned to seriousness as he looked back to the old man. "Not once did you mention Peace! That was the whole reason for suspecting her in the first place, was it not? How could you neglect such crucial information?"

"I did not forget, boy." Achilles said in a low tone. "I purposely left that out."

"Why?" Connor implored. "She could be gone by morning, all the information we need gone with her and we would have never known of her relation to the man! We would have never known-"

"Listen to me!" Achilles' fist landed on the table. "Stop your protests and let me speak. I purposely avoided the topic so another occasion could arise to be more of an appropriate time to talk about it. As for tonight, she needed to trust us after all of the hostility we gave her. And because we let her go, she will not leave."

"Are we to be so eager trust her?"

"I knew we could trust her after I saw the map," Achilles assured him. "That piece of paper saved her. You know that it doesn't make sense for a Templar to go looking for some ancient treasure in this time of arising conflict. I'm sure Haytham Kenway has more important motives than that."

"My father is unpredictable." Connor said. "The smaller details of his endeavors could range from seemingly simple tasks, such as finding these trinkets."

"That is completely irrelevant to his cause!"

"I was once considered irrelevant too, Achilles! The Assassins! Colonial resistance! Look where it all has led to!"

The two men stared at eachother silently. Achilles saw the anger in his apprentice's eyes, realizing the emotion the boy held for his antagonistic father and the young woman. Yet the old man didn't quite understand the boy's persistence towards his suspicions for Emma. It had seemed she had triggered a great amount of anger he felt towards the conflict in his mission.

"Connor," the old man asked more softly. "Do you honestly believe that this girl is our enemy? Look at her behavior. Look at the way she talked and composed herself. None of the subtleties found in our enemies lie in her. She's just a civilian woman; probably scared, confused, and very far from her home. Can you not find any mercy in yourself to give her grace?"

Connor looked down onto the table. His eyes centered on small dent engraved into the hardwood, contemplating the old man's words. He didn't want to reserve any grace for Emma, she just seemed to add to the conflict in his life. She was undeserving of his affections.

"Having her stay does not sit well with me," Connor admitted calmly. "Even without the suspicions; she is a person of poor quality. All she has done is provoke me; nothing but an irritating obstruction. She's caused me to deviate far from my focus."

The old man chuckled. "Person of poor quality? Are you so quick to place judgement?"

"I have spent enough time with her to know the kind of person she is; defiant and naïve."

"Sounds familiar…"

Connor shot a glare to him.

"Well from what I've seen," Achilles ignored the native's expression, "she may be acting so hostile to you because of how you've been behaving with her."

Connor's temper heated again. "You told me to treat her like the enemy!"

"No," Achilles corrected, "I told you to regard her as the enemy and to keep a distant eye on her. But apparently what you've done is exactly the opposite. You got too aggressive and now she has a great contempt for you."

"Ahh!" Connor groaned in frustration. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling above him. "I would have her go over the pass on the first given clear day."

_Knock, knock_

Connor and Achilles turned their heads to the dining hall's entrance. There stood Emma, still in her day clothes and looking with a sullen expression. Connor felt his face get hot at the thought of his recent words.

"May I enter?"

"Of course," Achilles said with a tone of surprise, "You may join the table, if you like."

She walked over to the two men, revealing only the slightest limp in her steps. Her eyes were centered on the ground as she came forward, hesitant to approach the potentially dangerous hosts of the house. Just a few feet before the two men, Emma slowly raised her eyes to Connor. After catching his scorn, she blinked away her look and took steps to avoid coming near him. Soon enough, she was standing in between the two of them, but stood closer to Achilles.

"I would like to stand please," she said, "I just have something quick to say."

The old man blinked at her, surprised and curious. "Go ahead."

Emma swallowed and rubbed her arm silently. Nerves were awaking inside her again, and she was uncertain about the logic around her impending words. The lantern light was dim on the two men before her and the blackness around them was consuming. She was starting to regret coming back into this room.

"You told me tonight," her grey eyes fell on Achilles, "that I may stay for the next few days. I'm supposed to heal before the storm ends."

"That is correct, yes." Achilles nodded.

Emma paused before directly responding. "Yes, however I don't that it will end in that amount of time. I think this storm is fiercer and bigger than we think."

"Alright," the old man doubted her words, "go on."

"If its going to last as long as I think it will, then that would mean that I would be staying for awhile, a long while." Her expression softened. "Like many weeks."

The old man raised his eyebrows.

"So," she continued with more confidence, "I'd like to be more useful around here."

He turned to face her more completely and looked with curiosity. "Are you making a proposal?"

"Let me work," she asked abruptly, "After a few more days of rest, I will be able to do chores around here, or anything else you need me to do."

"You want a job?" Achilles asked.

"Yes."

"In exchange for what?"

Her eyes lowered and her lips fell empty with words. "Well," she began, "to first repay my debt of stay to you," she motioned her hand to him, "and then… for the map."

"The map you tried to take?"

A pleading expression formed on her face. "I'd figure since you have many, it would be alright if I took one. My associate has been looking far for them and it would be a good asset if I gave it to them," she searched for his appeal, "I would name a price but I have no coin."

The old man looked unsure of her. "You really want this map?"

"Yes," she nearly begged, "I'll work for it's price."

"I would not have it."

Emma faced the man in the white robes. She hadn't expected to hear from him in this matter."I'm sorry?"

"I would not have it be so," Connor clarified defiantly. "You are not qualified to make such a request."

She gaped at him in offense. "Excuse me?"

"You are a liar and a thief!" He accused. "You allow no compliance with others and have no respect for their belongings. Not to mention, you are still in ailment. Your work will only prove to be meager and fruitless."

She blinked in disbelief at his rash opposition. "I am trying to make things right between us all."

"How can you expect us to trust you?" he asked. "Moments ago you've tried to hide your identity and run off with something that does not belong to you!"

"And moments ago, I explained that I did that to protect certain people I care about and because of a misunderstanding!" she fired back at him. "This time I ask to earn for what I want. Why wouldn't you allow me that chance?"

"You are undeserving."

Emma faced him entirely and folded her arms. "What, do you think I'll take all of your work or something?"

"Wouldn't be the first thing you've taken."

"I'm not going to steal!" She defended. "I am prolonging my stay, when I clearly shouldn't, just so I can get the map fair and square. Surely you couldn't refuse that!"

"Alright, that's enough." Achilles called out. "Let's settle this like adults." He eyed Connor. "Without anymore bickering."

Connor turned away.

"Miss Maywood," Achilles said, "I am going to side with you on this argument."

Emma's face softened as she turned to face the old man. "Really?"

"Certainly," he looked up to her. "Unlike the boy here, I am happy to comply to your request. I too, find it fair."

Hope enveloped in her.

"And I suppose I have to apologize to you once more," he said darkly while turning to Connor, "as my apprentice has failed to remember that it is I and not he, who is the master of this house."

The native turned back and looked sternly at his mentor.

"And as I am the master of this house, I oversee all that happens in it. Therefore," he faced Emma again. "I will allow you to work in my service."

She grinned at him. "Thank you."

"I am also going to make a suggestion here," Achilles stated. "You are skilled in the world of nautical things, correct?"

"Yes."

"Robert Faulkner is a friend of mine. He is a long time ship captain, living in a bay just behind this manor. He has told me that he is rebuilding his ship, the Aquila." He nodded to Connor. "The boy knows of this too. Anyways, I was thinking that perhaps the two of you should work together on this task. Help Faulkner raise his beloved ship from the depths of time and murky water."

Connor's face became stoic.

"Granted, I understand that the activity will not happen until the storm will clear, but I have some things you can do in the mean time, miss. Things around the house and maybe even around the homestead. It's always nice to have more help."

"I'd be glad to," Emma eyed Connor sneeringly. "I'll do what you ask."

"After your resting period." Achilles instructed. "When you are more apt to work, come see me and we will talk opportunities."

"Thank you, sir, I will. I'll try not to disappoint."

"Indeed." Achilles nodded in agreement. "Have a good night, Miss Maywood."

"'Night, sir."

And into the dark, she disappeared from the scene once more.

Things fell silent with the two men again. Connor held a distasteful look towards the old man and begun to bounce his knee impatiently beneath table. Achilles only met him with a scornful eye.

"Having her stay," Connor started angrily, "_and_ working here. Do you wish to push me to a breaking point?"

"Do you wish to push me, your master?" Achilles contested. "Do not dare to defy my authority again, Connor. Never in the face of company or naught, question my place of power. Or even as much as usurp it for moments of heated tension!" He threw his hand as he spoke. "You had no right to answer to her request. Learn to control your passions."

Connor stared back angrily but kept silent. He didn't mean to defy the old man in this way, but his temper got the best of him. He turned and fumed in his seat, resisting the urge to fight the old man.

Achilles shook his head and sighed. "Why must you be so hostile to her, Connor? You know we could always use more help around here, I'd think you of all people would understand that."

"Not from her," he spat into the darkness. "She will not make things any easier."

"Give her a chance," the old man proclaimed. "And you will. In fact you have to, I'm instructing you to."

Connor looked in disbelief.

"Perhaps she could be of good use around here," Achilles said optimistically while rising from his chair. "There is always work to be done on this old house and in the community. She could even be of some use to you."

"I doubt it."

"And as for the Aquila goes, sailing will be a helpful tool to you. Building the ship will as well, as it will teach you on the makings of a ship. And having the girl with you," the old man mused, "well, maybe some sort of bond will form."

Connor clenched his fists and scoffed aloud._ "Not a good one."_

"As for now, we are to be patient." Achilles said while walking away. "Let her rest and let her work."

"What about Peace?" Connor asked to the empty table. "We need to resolve that issue."

"She will open up in due time," the old man stopped. "I no longer hold suspicion of her, or not entirely anyway. I am curious of her and of that relation and I imagine that an occasion will arise in which will allow us to know about it all. Perhaps at a dinner or some sort of community event?"

Connor groaned and looked down at the table. The idea didn't appeal to him.

"And lastly, Connor," the old man continued. "You are no longer ordered to regard her as the enemy. Now you must treat her like a fellow employee, or student, if you will. In fact, I'm going to have you teach her certain things."

He turned and gaped at his mentor. "You would have me work with her?"

Achilles ignored him. "She is now a community member and has all the same rights as you have while living in this house. That means you will no longer spy, threaten, or interrogate her."

The apprentice grit his teeth at his instruction . "Then what would you have me do?"

"Well, lessen your opposition, for one." The old man suggested. "But then I advise you to take advantage of the situation before you."

"How so?"

"There's a young woman living in the room across your hall." The old man smiled. "Get to know her."

* * *

Replies to Reviews:

Superblade: I know it's kinda late, but Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you too! I'm in the Mountain Time zone. You're not the only one that's insane, I can be up pretty late too! Usually I'm writing and posting stuff during the late hours :P

beafstew: Thank you very much :) It means a lot when you tell me my story is original! I hope to keep it interesting for you, even if all of the characters in the story don't know whats going on haha!

FALLING-ANGEL24: No need to feel bad about laughing! I'm glad that you thought it was funny! :D I'm also glad that you are intrigued by ensuing events! Suspense is always a good element to have in a story!

Britanika: Thank you very much :) The goal is to not make it boring! I really hope that this chapter was fulfilling to you!

XxXSmilesXxX101: Thank you! I'm glad you loved it! and you're welcome haha! It makes me happy to respond to people's comments ^^ And thanks for wishing me a good day! That was super nice :) and ultimately, made my day! So I wish you a good day too!

CLIFFHANGER: haha "Whoop whoop!" I really liked that! I hope that this chapter fulfilled your anticipation!

Eager Reader:Thank you! The emotional struggle in this story has been so much fun for me to write and I'm happy that someone else can enjoy it too :) I hope to keep it interesting!


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